3  1210018389054 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


THE    RIVERMAN 


WORKS  o 


Published  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO. 

for 

REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS  CO. 

1917 


Copyright,  1908,  by  The  McClure  Company 


Copyright,  1907,  1908,  by  Stewart  Edward  White 


THE    RIVERMAN 


I 

THE  time  was  the  year  1872,  and  the  place  a  bend 
in  the  river  above  a  long  pond  terminating  in  a 
dam.  Beyond  this  dam,  and  on  a  flat  lower  than 
it,  stood  a  two-story  mill  structure.  Save  for  a  small,  stump- 
dotted  clearing,  and  the  road  that  led  from  it,  all  else  was 
forest.  Here  in  the  bottom-lands,  following  the  course  of 
the  stream,  the  hardwoods  grew  dense,  their  uppermost 
branches  just  beginning  to  spray  out  in  the  first  green  of 
spring.  Farther  back,  where  the  higher  lands  arose  from 
the  swamp,  could  be  discerned  the  graceful  frond  of  white 
pines  and  hemlock,  and  the  sturdy  tops  of  Norways  and 
spruce. 

A  strong  wind  blew  up  the  length  of  the  pond.  It  ruf- 
fled the  surface  of  the  water,  swooping  down  in  fan-shaped, 
scurrying  cat's-paws,  turning  the  dark-blue  surface  as  one 
turns  the  nap  of  velvet.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  pond  it 
even  succeeded  in  raising  quite  respectable  wavelets,  which 
lap  lap  lapped  eagerly  against  a  barrier  of  floating  logs 
that  filled  completely  the  mouth  of  the  inlet  river.  And 
behind  this  barrier  were  other  logs,  and  yet  others,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see,  so  that  the  entire  surface  of  the  stream 
was  carpeted  by  the  brown  timbers.  A  man  could  have 
walked  down  the  middle  of  that  river  as  down  a  highway. 

On  the  bank,  and  in  a  small  woods-opening,  burned  two 
fires,  their  smoke  ducking  and  twisting  under  the  buffeting 
of  the  wind.  The  first  of  these  fires  occupied  a  shallow 
trench  dug  for  its  accommodation,  and  was  overarched  by 
a  rustic  framework  from  which  hung  several  pails,  kettles, 

3 


4  THE   RIVERMAN 

and  pots.  An  injured-looking,  chubby  man  in  a  battered 
brown  derby  hat  moved  here  and  there.  He  divided  his 
time  between  the  utensils  and  an  indifferent  youth — his 
"  cookee."  The  other,  and  larger,  fire  centred  a  rectangle 
composed  of  tall  racks,  built  of  saplings  and  intended  for  the 
drying  of  clothes.  Two  large  tents  gleamed  white  among  the 
trees. 

About  the  drying-fire  were  gathered  thirty-odd  men. 
Some  were  half-reclining  before  the  blaze;  others  sat  in 
rows  on  logs  drawn  close  for  the  purpose;  still  others 
squatted  like  Indians  on  their  heels,  their  hands  thrown 
forward  to  keep  the  balance.  Nearly  all  were  smoking 
pipes. 

Every  age  was  represented  in  this  group,  but  young  men 
predominated.  All  wore  woollen  trousers  stuffed  into  leather 
boots  reaching  just  to  the  knee.  These  boots  were  armed 
on  the  soles  with  rows  of  formidable  sharp  spikes  or  caulks, 
a  half  and  sometimes  even  three  quarters  of  an  inch  in 
length.  The  tight  driver's  shoe  and  "  stagged "  trousers 
had  not  then  come  into  use.  From  the  waist  down  these 
men  wore  all  alike,  as  though  in  a  uniform,  the  outward 
symbol  of  their  calling.  From  the  waist  up  was  more  lati- 
tude of  personal  taste.  One  young  fellow  sported  a  bright- 
coloured  Mackinaw  blanket  jacket;  another  wore  a  red  knit 
sash,  with  tasselled  ends;  a  third's  fancy  ran  to  a  bright 
bandana  about  his  neck.  Head-gear,  too,  covered  wide  vari- 
ations of  broader  or  narrower  brim,  of  higher  or  lower 
crown;  and  the  faces  beneath  those  hats  differed  as  every- 
where the  human  countenance  differs.  Only  when  the  in- 
spection, passing  the  gradations  of  broad  or  narrow,  thick 
or  'Mn,  bony  or  rounded,  rested  finally  on  the  eyes,  would 
the  observer  have  caught  again  the  caste-mark  which 
stamped  these  men  as  belonging  to  a  distinct  order,  and 
separated  them  essentially  from  other  men  in  other  occu- 
pations. Blue  and  brown  and  black  and  gray  these  eyes 


THE    RIVERMAN  5 

were,  but  all  steady  and  clear  with  the  steadiness  and  clar- 
ity that  comes  to  those  whose  daily  work  compels  them 
under  penalty  to  pay  close  and  undeviating  attention  to 
their  surroundings.  This  is  true  of  sailors,  hunters,  plains- 
men, cowboys,  and  tugboat  captains.  It  was  especially  true 
of  the  old-fashioned  river-driver,  for  a  misstep,  a  miscalcu- 
lation, a  moment's  forgetfulness  of  the  sullen  forces  shifting 
and  changing  about  him  could  mean  for  him  maiming  or 
destruction.  So,  finally,  to  one  of  an  imaginative  bent,  these 
eyes,  like  the  "  cork  boots,"  grew  to  seem  part  of  the  uni- 
form, one  of  the  marks  of  their  caste,  the  outward  symbol 
of  their  calling. 

"  Blow,  you  son  of  a  gun ! "  cried  disgustedly  one  young 
fellow  with  a  red  bandana,  apostrophising  the  wind.  "  I 
wonder  if  there's  any  side  of  this  fire  that  ain't  smoky !  " 

"  Keep  your  hair  on,  bub,"  advised  a  cairn  and  grizzled 
old-timer.  "  There's  never  no  smoke  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire — whichever  that  happens  to  be.  And  as  for  wind 
— she  just  makes  holiday  for  the  river-hogs." 

"  Holiday,  hell !  "  snorted  the  younger  man.  "  We  ought 
to  be  down  to  Bull's  Dam  before  now " 

"  And  Bull's  Dam  is  half-way  to  Redding,"  mocked  a 
reptilian  and  red-headed  giant  on  the  log,  "  and  Redding 
is  the  happy  childhood  home  of " 

The  young  man  leaped  to  his  feet  and  seized  from  a 
pile  of  tools  a  peavy — a  dangerous  weapon,  like  a  heavy 
cant-hook,  but  armed  at  the  end  with  a  sharp  steel  shoe. 

"  That's  about  enough !  "  he  warned,  raising  his  weapon, 
his  face  suffused  and  angry.  The  red-headed  man,  quite 
unafraid,  rose  slowly  from  the  log  and  advanced,  bare- 
handed, his  small  eyes  narrowed  and  watchful. 

But  immediately  a  dozen  men  interfered. 

"  Dry  up !  "  advised  the  grizzled  old-timer — Tom  North 
by  name.  "  You,  Purdy,  set  down ;  and  you,  young  squirt, 
subside!  If  you're  going  to  have  ructions,  why,  have  'em, 


b  THE   RIVERMAN 

but  not  on  drive.  If  you  don't  look  out,  I'll  set  you  both 
to  rustling  wood  for  the  doctor." 

At  this  threat  the  belligerents  dropped  muttering  to  their 
places.  The  wind  continued  to  blow,  the  fire  continued  to 
flare  up  and  down,  the  men  continued  to  smoke,  exchang- 
ing from  time  to  time  desultory  and  aimless  remarks.  Only 
Tom  North  carried  on  a  consecutive,  low-voiced  conver- 
sation with  another  of  about  his  own  age. 

"  Just  the  same,  Jim,"  he  was  saying,  "  it  is  a  little 
tough  on  the  boys — this  new  sluice-gate  business.  They've 
been  sort  of  expectin'  a  chance  for  a  day  or  two  at  Red- 
ding, and  now,  if  this  son  of  a  gun  of  a  wind  hangs  out, 
I  don't  know  when  we'll  make  her.  The  shallows  at  Bull's 
was  always  bad  enough,  but  this  is  worse." 

"  Yes,  I  expected  to  pick  you  up  'way  below,"  admitted 
Jim,  whose  "  turkey,"  or  clothes-bag,  at  his  side  proclaimed 
him  a  newcomer.  "  Had  quite  a  tramp  to  find  you." 

"  This  stretch  of  slack  water  was  always  a  terror,"  went 
on  North,  "  and  we  had  fairly  to  pike-pole  every  stick 
through  when  the  wind  blew;  but  now  that  dam's  backed 
the  water  up  until  there  reely  ain't  no  current  at  all.  And 
this  breeze  has  just  stopped  the  drive  dead  as  a  smelt." 

"Don't  opening  the  sluice-gates  give  her  a  draw?"  in- 
quired the  newcomer. 

"  Not  against  this  wind — and  not  much  of  a  draw,  any- 
way, I  should  guess." 

"  How  long  you  been  hung?  " 

"  Just  to-day.  I  expect  Jack  will  be  down  from  the  rear 
shortly.  Ought  to  see  something's  wrong  when  he  runs 
against  the  tail  of  this  jam  of  ours." 

At  this  moment  the  lugubrious,  round-faced  man  in  the 
derby  hat  stepped  aside  from  the  row  of  steaming  utensils 
he  had  been  arranging. 

"  Grub  pile,"  he  remarked  in  a  conversational  tone  of 
voice. 


THE    RIVERMAN  7 

The  group  arose  as  one  man  and  moved  upon  the  heap 
of  cutlery  and  of  tin  plates  and  cups.  From  the  open  fifty- 
pound  lard  pails  and  kettles  they  helped  themselves  liber- 
ally ;  then  retired  to  squat  in  little  groups  here  and  there 
near  the  sources  of  supply.  Mere  conversation  yielded  to 
an  industrious  silence.  Sadly  the  cook  surveyed  the  scene, 
his  arms  folded  across  the  dirty  white  apron,  an  immense 
mental  reservation  accenting  the  melancholy  of  his  coun- 
tenance. After  some  moments  of  contemplation  he  mixed 
a  fizzling  concoction  of  vinegar  and  soda,  which  he  drank. 
His  rotundity  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  he  was 
ravaged  by  a  gnawing  dyspepsia,  and  the  sight  of  six  eggs 
eaten  as  a  side  dish  to  substantials  carried  consternation 
to  his  interior. 

So  busily  engaged  was  each  after  his  own  fashion  that 
nobody  observed  the  approach  of  a  solitary  figure  down 
the  highway  of  the  river.  The  man  appeared  tiny  around 
the  upper  bend,  momently  growing  larger  as  he  approached. 
His  progress  was  jerky  and  on  an  uneven  zigzag,  accord- 
ing as  the  logs  lay,  by  leaps,  short  runs,  brief  pauses,  as  a 
riverman  goes.  Finally  he  stepped  ashore  just  below  the 
camp,  stamped  his  feet  vigorously  free  of  water,  and  ap- 
proached the  group  around  the  cooking-fire. 

No  one  saw  him  save  the  cook,  who  vouchsafed  him  a 
stately  and  lugubrious  inclination  of  the  head. 

The  newcomer  was  a  man  somewhere  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  squarely  built,  big  of  bone,  compact  in  bulk.  His 
face  was  burly,  jolly,  and  reddened  rather  than  tanned  by 
long  exposure.  A  pair  of  twinkling  blue  eyes  and  a  humor- 
ously quirked  mouth  redeemed  his  countenance  from  com- 
monplaceness. 

He  spread  his  feet  apart  and  surveyed  the  scene. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  remarked  at  last  in  a  rollicking  big 
voice,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  the  situation  hasn't  spoiled  your 
appetites." 


8  THE   RIVERMAN 

At  this  they  looked  up  with  a  spontaneous  answering 
grin.  Tom  North  laid  aside  his  plate  and  started  to  arise. 

"  Sit  still,  Tom,"  interposed  the  newcomer.  "  Eat  hearty. 
I'm  going  to  feed  yet  myself.  Then  we'll  see  what's  to  be 
done.  I  think  first  thing  you'd  better  see  to  having  this 
wind  turned  off." 

After  the  meal  was  finished,  North  and  his  principal 
sauntered  to  the  water's  edge,  where  they  stood  for  a 
minute  looking  at  the  logs  and  the  ruffled  expanse  of  water 
below. 

"  Might  as  well  have  sails  on  them  and  be  done  with  it," 
remarked  Jack  Orde  reflectively.  "  Couldn't  hold  'em  any 
tighter.  It's  a  pity  that  old  mossback  had  to  put  in  a  mill. 
The  water  was  slack  enough  before,  but  now  there  seems 
to  be  no  current  at  all." 

"  Case  of  wait  for  the  wind,"  agreed  Tom  North.  "  Old 
Daly  will  be  red-headed.  He  must  be  about  out  of  logs 
at  the  mill.  The  flood-water's  going  down  every  minute, 
and  it'll  make  the  riffles  above  Redding  a  holy  fright.  And 
I  expect  Johnson's  drive  will  be  down  on  our  rear  most  any 
time." 

"It's  there  already.  Let's  go  take  a  look,"  suggested 
Orde. 

They  picked  their  way  around  the  edge  of  the  pond  to 
the  site  of  the  new  mill. 

"  Sluice  open  all  right,"  commented  Orde.  "  Thought  she 
might  be  closed." 

"  I  saw  to  that,"  rejoined  North  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  'Course,"  agreed  Orde,  "  but  he  might  have  dropped 
her  shut  on  you  between  times,  when  you  weren't  looking." 

He  walked  out  on  the  structure  and  looked  down  on  the 
smooth  water  rushing  through. 

"  Ought  to  make  a  draw,"  he  reflected.  Then  he  laughed. 
"Tom,  look  here,"  he  called.  "Climb  down  and  take  a 
squint  at  this." 


THE    RIVERMAN  9 

North  clambered  to  a  position  below. 

"  The  son  of  a  gun !  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  sluice,  instead  of  bedding  at  the  natural  channel  of 
the  river,  had  been  built  a  good  six  feet  above  that  level; 
so  that,  even  with  the  gates  wide  open,  a  "  head  "  of  six 
feet  was  retained  in  the  slack  water  of  the  pond.  i/ 

"  No  wonder  we  couldn't  get  a  draw,"  said  Orde.  "  Let's 
hunt  up  old  What's-his-name  and  have  a  pow-wow." 

"  His  name  is  plain  Reed/'  explained  North.  "  There  he 
comes  now." 

"  Sainted  cats !  "  cried  Orde,  with  one  of  his  big,  rollick- 
ing chuckles.  "  Where  did  you  catch  it  ?  " 

The  owner  of  the  dam  flapped  into  view  as  a  lank  and 
lengthy  individual  dressed  in  loose,  long  clothes  and  wear- 
ing a-top  a  battered  old  "  plug "  hat,  the  nap  of  which 
seemed  all  to  have  been  rubbed  off  the  wrong  way. 

As  he  bore  down  on  the  intruders  with  tremendous, 
nervous  strides,  they  perceived  him  to  be  an  old  man, 
white  of  hair,  cadaverous  of  countenance,  with  thin,  straight 
lips,  and  burning,  fanatic  eyes  beneath  stiff  and  bushy  brows. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Reed,"  shouted  Orde  above  the 
noise  of  the  water. 

"  Good-morning,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  apparition. 

"  Nice  dam  you  got  here,"  went  on  Orde. 

Reed  nodded,  his  fiery  eyes  fixed  unblinking  on  the 
riverman. 

"  But  you  haven't  been  quite  square  to  us,"  said  Orde. 
w  You  aren't  giving  us  much  show  to  get  our  logs  out." 

"  How  so  ?  "  snapped  the  owner,  his  thin  lips  tightening. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  you  know,  all  right,"  laughed  Orde,  clam- 
bering leisurely  back  to  the  top  of  the  dam.  "  That  sluice 
is  a  good  six  foot  too  high." 

"  Is  that  so !  "  cried  the  old  man,  plunging  suddenly  into 
a  craze  of  excitement.  "  Well,  let  me  tell  you  this,  Mr. 
Man,  I'm  giving  you  all  the  law  gives  you,  and  that's  the 


10  THE   RIVERMAN 

natural  flow  of  the  river,  and  not  a  thing  more  will  you 
get!  You  that  comes  to  waste  and  destroy,  to  arrogate 
unto  yourselves  the  kingdoms  of  the  yearth  and  all  the 
fruits  thereof,  let  me  tell  you  you  can't  override  Simeon 
Reed !  I'm  engaged  here  in  a  peaceful  and  fittin'  operation, 
which  is  to  feed  the  hungry  by  means  of  this  grist-mill, 
not  to  rampage  and  bring  destruction  to  the  noble  forests 
God  has  planted!  I've  give  you  what  the  law  gives  you, 
and  nothin*  more !  " 

Somewhat  astonished  at  this  outbreak,  the  two  rivermen 
stood  for  a  moment  staring  at  the  old  man.  Then  a  steely 
glint  crept  into  Orde's  frank  blue  eye  and  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  tightened. 

"  We  want  no  trouble  with  you,  Mr.  Reed,"  said  he, 
"  and  I'm  no  lawyer  to  know  what  the  law  requires  you 
to  do  and  what  it  requires  you  not  to  do.  But  I  do  know 
that  this  is  the  only  dam  on  the  river  with  sluices  built  up 
that  way,  and  I  do  know  that  we'll  never  get  those  logs 
out  if  we  don't  get  more  draw  on  the  water.  Good-day." 
Followed  by  the  reluctant  North  he  walked  away,  leaving 
the  gaunt  figure  of  the  dam  owner  gazing  after  them,  his 
black  garments  flapping  about  him,  his  hands  clasped  be- 
hind his  back,  his  ruffled  plug  hat  thrust  frcm  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Well ! "  burst  out  North,  when  they  were  out  of  hear- 
ing. 

"  Well !  "  mimicked  Orde  with  a  laugh. 
"Are  you  going  to  let  that  old  high-banker  walk  all 
over  you  ?  " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  Tom?  It's  his 
dam." 

"I  don't  know.  But  you  ain't  going  to  let  him  hang 
us  up  here  all  summer " 

"  Sure  not.  But  the  wind's  shifting.  Let's  see  what  the 
weather's  like  to-morrow.  To-day's  pretty  late." 


II 

THE  next  morning  dawned  clear  and  breathless.  Be- 
fore daylight  the  pessimistic  cook  was  out,  his  fire 
winking  bravely  against  the  darkness.  His  only  sat- 
isfaction of  the  long  day  came  when  he  aroused  the  men 
from  the  heavy  sleep  into  which  daily  toil  plunged  them. 
With  the  first  light  the  entire  crew  were  at  the  banks  of  the 
river. 

As  soon  as  the  wind  died  the  logs  had  begun  to  drift 
slowly  out  into  the  open  water.  The  surface  of  the  pond 
was  covered  with  the  scattered  timbers  floating  idly.  After 
a  few  moments  the  clank  of  the  bars  and  ratchet  was  heard 
as  two  of  the  men  raised  the  heavy  sluice-gate  on  the  dam. 
A  roar  of  water,  momently  increasing,  marked  the  slow 
rise  of  the  barrier.  A  very  imaginative  man  might  then 
have  made  out  a  tendency  forward  on  the  part  of  those 
timbers  floating  nearest  the  centre  of  the  pond.  It  was  a 
very  sluggish  tendency,  however,  and  the  men  watching 
critically  shook  their  heads. 

Four  more  had  by  this  time  joined  the  two  men  who  had 
raised  the  gate,  and  all  together,  armed  with  long  pike 
poles,  walked  out  on  the  funnel-shaped  booms  that  should 
concentrate  the  logs  into  the  chute.  Here  they  prodded 
forward  the  few  timbers  within  reach,  and  waited  for 
more. 

These  were  a  long  time  coming.  Members  of  the  driving 
crew  leaped  shouting  from  one  log  to  another.  Sometimes, 
when  the  space  across  was  too  wide  to  jump,  they  pro- 
pelled a  log  over  either  by  rolling  it,  paddling  it,  or  project- 

xx 


12  THE    RIVERMAN 

ing  it  by  the  shock  of  a  leap  on  one  end.  In  accomplishing 
these  feats  of  tight-rope  balance,  they  stood  upright  and 
graceful,  quite  unconscious  of  themselves,  their  bodies  ac- 
customed by  long  habit  to  nice  and  instant  obedience  to 
the  almost  unconscious  impulses  of  the  brain.  Only  their 
eyes,  intent,  preoccupied,  blazed  out  by  sheer  will-power 
the  unstable  path  their  owners  should  follow.  Once  at  the 
forefront  of  the  drive,  the  men  began  vigorously  to  urge 
the  logs  forward.  This  they  accomplished  almost  entire- 
ly by  main  strength,  for  the  sluggish  current  gave  them 
little  aid.  Under  the  pressure  of  their  feet  as  they  pushed 
against  their  implements,  the  logs  dipped,  rolled,  and 
plunged.  Nevertheless,  they  worked  as  surely  from  the 
decks  of  these  unstable  craft  as  from  the  solid  earth 


In  this  manner  the  logs  in  the  centre  of  the  pond  were 
urged  forward  until,  above  the  chute,  they  caught  the 
slightly  accelerated  current  which  should  bring  them  down 
to  the  pike-pole  men  at  the  dam.  Immediately,  when  this 
stronger  influence  was  felt,  the  drivers  zigzagged  back  up 
stream  to  start  a  fresh  batch.  In  the  meantime  a  great  many 
logs  drifted  away  to  right  and  left  into  stagnant  water, 
where  they  lay  absolutely  motionless.  The  moving  of  them 
was  deferred  for  the  "  sacking  crew,"  which  would  bring 
up  the  rear. 

Jack  Orde  wandered  back  and  forth  over  the  work,  his 
hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  a  short  pipe  clenched  be- 
tween his  teeth.  To  the  edge  of  the  drive  he  rode  the 
logs,  then  took  to  the  bank  and  strolled  down  to  the  dam. 
There  he  stood  for  a  moment  gazing  aimlessly  at  the 
water  making  over  the  apron,  after  which  he  returned  to 
the  work.  No  cloud  obscured  the  serene  good-nature  of 
his  face.  Meeting  Tom  North's  troubled  glance,  he  grinned 
broadly. 

"  Told  you  we'd  have  Johnson  on  our  necks,"  he  re- 


THE   RIVERMAN  13 

marked,  jerking  his  thumb  up  river  toward  a  rapidly  ap- 
proaching figure. 

This  soon  defined  itself  as  a  tall,  sun-reddened,  very 
blond  individual  with  a  choleric  blue  eye. 

"  What  in  hell's  the  matter  here  ? "  he  yelled,  as  soon 
as  he  came  within  hearing  distance. 

Orde  made  no  reply,  but  stood  contemplating  the  new- 
tomer  with  a  flicker  of  amusement. 

"  What  in  hell's  the  matter  ? "  repeated  the  latter  vio- 
\ently. 

"  Better  go  theje.  and  inquire,"  rejoined  Orde  drolly. 
'  What  ails  you,  Johnson  ?  " 

"  We're  right  at  your  rear,"  cried  the  other,  "  and  you 
ttin't  even  made  a  start  gettin'  through  this  dam!  We'll 
lose  the  water  next!  Why  in  hell  ain't  you  through  and 
gone  ?  " 

"  Keep  your  shirt  on,"  advised  Orde.  "  We're  getting 
through  as  fast  as  we  can.  If  you  want  these  logs  pushed 
any  faster,  come  down  and  do  it  yourself." 

Johnson  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  splashed  away  over  the 
logs,  examining  in  detail  the  progress  of  the  work.  After 
a  little  he  returned  within  hailing  distance. 

"If  you  can't  get  out  logs,  why  do  you  take  the  job?" 
he  roared,  with  a  string  of  oaths.  "If  you  hang  my  drive, 
damn  you,  you'll  catch  it  for  damages!  It's  gettin'  to  a 
purty  pass  when  any  old  highbanker  from  anywheres  can 
get  out  and  play  jackstraws  holdin'  up  every  drive  in  the 
river!  I  tell  you  our  mills  need  logs,  and  what's  more 
they're  agoin'  to  git  them ! " 

He  departed  in  a  rumble  of  vituperation. 

Orde  laughed  humorously  at  his  foreman. 

"Johnson  gets  so  mad  sometimes,  his  skin  cracks,"  he 
remarked.  "  However,"  he  went  on  more  seriously,  "  there's 
a  heap  in  what  he  means,  if  there  ain't  so  much  in  what 
he  says.  I'll  go  labour  with  our  old  friend  below." 


14  THE   RIVERMAN 

He  regained  the  bank,  stopped  to  light  his  pipe,  and 
sauntered,  with  every  appearance  of  leisure,  down  the  bank, 
past  the  dam,  to  the  mill  structure  below. 

Here  he  found  the  owner  occupying  a  chair  tilted  back 
against  the  wall  of  the  building.  His  ruffled  plug  hat  was 
thrust,  as  usual,  well  away  from  his  high  and  narrow 
forehead;  the  long  broadcloth  coat  fell  back  to  reveal  an 
unbuttoned  waistcoat;  the  flapping  black  trousers  were 
hitched  up  far  enough  to  display  woollen  socks  wrinkled 
about  bony  shanks.  He  was  whittling  a  pine  stick,  which 
he  held  pointing  down  between  his  spread  knees,  and  con- 
versing animatedly  with  a  young  fellow  occupying  another 
chair  at  his  side. 

"  And  there  comes  one  of  'em  now,"  declaimed  the  old 
man  dramatically. 

Orde  nodded  briefly  to  the  stranger,  and  came  at  once 
to  business. 

"I  want  to  talk  this  matter  over  with  you,"  he  be- 
gan. "We  aren't  making  much  progress.  We  can't 
afford  to  hang  up  the  drive,  and  the  water  is  going 
down  every  day.  We've  got  to  have  more  water.  I'll  tell 
you  what  we'll  do:  If  you'll  let  us  cut  down  the  new  sill, 
we'll  replace  it  in  good  shape  when  we  get  all  our  logs 
through." 

''  No,  sir !  "  promptly  vetoed  the  old  man. 

"  Well,  we'll  give  you  something  for  the  privilege.  What 
do  you  think  is  fair  ?  " 

"I  tell  ye  I'll  give  you  your  legal  rights,  and  not  a 
cent  more,"  replied  the  old  man,  still  quietly,  but  with 
quivering  nostrils. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Orde. 

"  My  name  is  Reed,  sir." 

"Well,  Mr.  Reed,  stop  and  think  what  this  means.  It's 
a  more  serious  matter  than  you  think.  In  a  little  while  the 
water  will  be  so  low  in  the  river  that  it  will  be  impossible 


THE    RIVERMAN  15 

t*>  take  out  the  logs  this  year.  That  means  a  large  loss,  of 
course,  as  you  know." 

"  I  don'1  know  nothin'  about  the  pesky  business,  and  I 
don't  wan  to,"  snorted  Reed. 

"  Well,  there's  borers,  for  one  thing,  to  spoil  a  good 
many  of  the  logs.  And  think  what  it  will  mean  to  the 
mills.  Nt  logs  means  no  lumber.  That  is  bankruptcy  for 
a  good  lany  who  have  contracts  to  fulfil.  And  no  logs 
means  the  mills  must  close.  Thousands  of  men  will  be 
thrown  out  of  their  jobs,  and  a  good  many  of  them  will 
go  hungry.  And  with  the  stream  full  of  the  old  cutting, 
that  means  less  to  do  next  winter  in  the  woods — more  men 
throvi  i  out.  Getting  out  a  season's  cut  with  the  flood-water 
is  a  pretty  serious  matter  to  a  great  many  people,  and  if 
you  insist  on  holding  us  up  here  in  this  slack  water  the 
situation  will  soon  become  alarming." 

"  Ye  finished  ?  "  demanded  Reed  grimly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Orde. 

The  old  man  cast  from  him  his  half-whittled  piece  of 
pine.  He  closed  his  jack-knife  with  a  snap  and  thrust  it 
in  his  pocket.  He  brought  to  earth  the  front  legs  of  his 
chair  with  a  thump,  and  jammed  his  ruffled  plug  hat  to 
its  proper  place. 

"And  if  the  whole  kit  and  kaboodle  of  ye  starved  out- 
right," said  he,  "  it  would  but  be  the  fulfillin'  of  the  word 
of  the  prophet  who  says,  '  So  will  I  send  upon  you  famine 
and  evil  beasts,  and  they  shall  bereave  thee,  and  pestilence 
and  blood  shall  pass  through  thee;  and  I  will  bring  the 
sword  upon  thee.  I  the  Lord  have  spoken  it  1 ' ' 

"  That's  your  last  word  ?  "  inquired  Orde. 

"That's  my  last  word,  and  my  first.  Ye  that  make  of 
God's  smilin'  land  waste  places  and  a  wilderness,  by  your 
own  folly  shall  ye  perish." 

"  Good-day,"  said  Orde,  whirling  on  his  heel  without 
further  argument. 


i6  THE   RIVERMAN 

The  young  man,  who  had  during  this^  colloquy  sat  an 
interested  and  silent  spectator,  arose  and  joined  him.  Orde 
looked  at  his  new  companion  a  little  curiously.  He  was  a 
very  slender  young  man,  taut-muscled,  taut-nerved,  but 
impassive  in  demeanour.  He  possessed  a  shrewd,  thin  face, 
steel-gray,  inscrutable  eyes  behind  glasses.  His  costume  was 
quite  simply  an  old  gray  suit  of  business  clothes  and  a  gray 
felt  hat.  At  the  moment  he  held  in  his  mouth  an  unlighted 
and  badly  chewed  cigar. 

"Nice,  amiable  old  party,"  volunteered  Orde  with  a 
chuckle. 

"  Seems  to  be,"  agreed  the  young  man  drily. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  we'll  just  have  to  worry  along  without 
him,"  remarked  Orde,  striking  his  steel  caulks  into  the  first 
log  and  preparing  to  cross  out  into  the  river  where  the 
work  was  going  on. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  young  fellow.  "Have  you 
any  objections  to  my  hanging  around  a  little  to  watch  the 
work?  My  name  is  Newmark — Joseph  Newmark.  I'm  out 
in  this  country  a  good  deal  for  my  health.  This  thing 
interests  me." 

"  Sure,"  replied  Orde,  puzzled.  "  Look  all  you  want  to. 
The  scenery's  free." 

"Yes.  But  can  you  put  me  up?  Can  I  get  a  chance  to 
stay  with  you  a  little  while  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  agreed  Orde  heartily. 
"  But,"  he  supplemented  with  one  of  his  contagious 
chuckles,  "  I'm  only  river-boss.  You'll  have  to  fix  it  up 
with  the  doctor — the  cook,  I  mean,"  he  explained,  as  New- 
mark  look  puzzled.  "You'll  find  him  at  camp  up  behind 
that  brush.  He's  a  slim,  handsome  fellow,  with  a  jolly 
expression  of  countenance." 

He  leaped  lightly  out  over  the  bobbing  timbers,  leaving 
Newmark  to  find  his  way. 

In  the  centre  of  the  stream  the  work  had  been  gradually 


THE   RIVERMAN  17 

slowing  down  to  a  standstill  with  the  subsidence  of  the 
first  rush  of  water  after  the  sluice-gate  was  opened.  Tom 
North,  leaning  gracefully  against  the  shaft  of  a  peavy, 
looked  up  eagerly  as  his  principal  approached. 

"  Well,  Jack,"  he  inquired,  "  is  it  to  be  peace  or  war  ?  " 

"War,"  replied  Orde  briefly. 


HI 

A  this   moment    the   cook   stepped    into   view,   and, 
making  a  trumpet  of  his  two  hands,  sent  across 
the  water  a  long,  weird,  and  not  unmusical  cry. 
The  men  at  once  began  slowly  to  drift  in  the  direction  of 
the  camp.  There,  when  the  tin  plates  had  all  been  filled, 
and  each  had  found  a  place  to  his  liking,  Orde  addressed 
them.  His  manner  was  casual  and  conversational. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  the  old  mossback  who  owns  that 
dam  has  come  up  here  loaded  to  scatter.  He's  built  up 
the  sill  of  that  gate  until  we  can't  get  a  draw  on  the  water, 
and  he  refuses  to  give,  lend,  or  sell  us  the  right  to  cut  her 
out.  I've  made  him  every  reasonable  proposition,  but  all 
I  get  back  is  quotations  from  the  prophets.  Now,  we've 
got  to  get  those  logs  out — that's  what  we're  here  for.  A 
fine  bunch  of  Whitewater  birlers  we'd  look  if  we  got  hung 
up  by  an  old  mossback  in  a  plug  hat.  Johnny  Sims,  what's 
the  answer  ?  " 

"  Cut  her  out,"  grinned  Johnny  Sims  briefly. 

"  Correct  1 "  replied  Orde  with  a  chuckle.  "  Cut  her  out. 
But,  my  son,  it's  against  the  law  to  interfere  with  another 
man's  property." 

This  was  so  obviously  humourous  in  intent  that  its  only 
reception  consisted  of  more  grins  from  everybody. 

"  But,"  went  on  Orde  more  seriously,  "  it's  quite  a  job. 
We  can't  work  more  than  six  or  eight  men  at  it  at  a  time. 
We  got  to  work  as  fast  as  we  can  before  the  old  man  can 
interfere." 

"The  nearest  sheriff's  at  Spruce  Rapids,"  commented 
fome  one  philosophically. 

18 


THE    RIVERMAN  19 

"  We  have  sixty  men,  all  told,"  said  Orde.  "  We  ought 
to  be  able  to  carry  it  through." 

He  filled  his  plate  and  walked  across  to  a  vacant  place. 
Here  he  found  himself  next  to  Newmark. 

"  Hello !  "  he  greeted  that  young  man,  "  fixed  it  with  the 
doctor  all  right?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Newmark,  in  his  brief,  dry  manner, 
"  thanks !  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  the  sheriff  is 
not  at  Spruce  Rapids,  but  at  the  village — expecting  trouble." 

Orde  whistled,  then  broke  into  a  roar  of  delight. 

"  Boys,"  he  called,  "  old  Plug  Hat's  got  the  sheriff  right 
handy.  I  guess  he  sort  of  expected  we'd  be  thinking  of 
cutting  through  that  dam.  How'd  you  like  to  go  to  jail?" 

"  I'd  like  to  see  any  sheriff  take  us  to  jail,  unless  he  had 
an  army  with  him,"  growled  one  of  the  river-jacks. 

"  Has  he  a  posse  ?  "  inquired  Orde  of  Newmark. 

"  I  didn't  see  any ;  but  I  understood  in  the  village  that 
the  governor  had  been  advised  to  hold  State  troops  in 
readiness  for  trouble." 

Orde  fell  into  a  brown  study,  eating  mechanically.  "The 
men  began  an  eager  and  somewhat  truculent  discussion  full 
of  lawless  and  bloodthirsty  suggestion.  Some  suggested  the 
kidnapping  and  sequestration  of  Reed  until  the  affair  should 
be  finished. 

"How'd  he  get  hold  of  his  old  sheriff,  then?"  they  in- 
quired with  some  pertinence. 

Orde,  however,  paid  no  attention  to  all  this  talk,  but 
continued  to  frown  into  space.  At  last  his  face  cleared, 
and  he  slapped  down  his  tin  plate  so  violently  that  the 
knife  and  fork  jumped  off  into  the  dirt. 

"  I  have  it ! "  he  cried  aloud. 

But  he  would  not  tell  what  he  had.  After  the  noon  hour 
he  instructed  a  half-dozen  men  to  provide  themselves  with 
saws,  axes,  picks,  and  -vuoveh,.  «uiu  all  marched  in  the 
direction  of  the  mill. 


20  THE   RIVERMAN 

When  within  a  hundred  yards  or  so  of  that  structure 
the  advancing  riverman  saw  the  lank,  black  figure  of  the 
mill  owner  flap  into  sight,  astride  a  bony  old  horse,  and 
clatter  away,  coat-tails  flying,  up  the  road  and  into  the 
waiting  forest 

"  Now,  boys ! "  cried  Ode  crisply.  "  He'll  be  back  in  an 
hour  with  the  sheriff.  Lively!"  He  rapidly  designated  ten 
men  of  his  crew.  "  You  boys  get  to  work  and  make  things 
hum.  Get  as  much  done  as  you  can  before  the  sheriff 
comes." 

"  He'll  have  to  bring  all  of  Spruce  County  to  get  me," 
commented  one  of  those  chosen,  spitting  on  his  hands. 

"Me,  too!"  said  others. 

"  Now,  listen,"  said  Orde,  holding  them  with  an  im- 
pressive gesture.  "  When  that  sheriff  comes,  with  or  with- 
out a  posse,  I  want  you  to  go  peaceably.  Understand  ?  " 

"  Cave  in  ?  Not  much !  "  cried  Purdy. 

"  See  here,"  and  Orde  drew  them  aside  to  an  earnest, 
low-voiced  conversation  that  lasted  several  minutes.  When 
he  had  finished  he  clapped  each  of  them  on  the  back,  and 
all  moved  off,  laughing,  to  the  dam. 

"  Now,  boys,"  he  commanded  the  others,  "  no  row  with- 
out orders.  Understand?  If  there's  going  to  be  a  fight,  I'll 
give  you  the  word  when." 

The  chopping  crew  descended  to  the  bottom  of  the  sluice, 
ihe  gate  of  which  had  been  shut,  and  began  immediately 
to  chop  away  at  the  apron.  As  the  water  in  the  pond 
above  had  been  drawn  low  by  the  morning's  work,  none 
overflowed  the  gate,  so  the  men  were  enabled  to  work 
dry.  Below  the  apron,  of  course,  had  been  filled  in  with 
earth  and  stones.  As  soon  as  the  axe-men  had  effected  an 
entry  to  this  deposit,  other  men  with  shovels  and  picks 
began  to  remove  the  filling. 

The  work  had  continued  nearly  an  hour  when  Orde 
commanded  the  fifty  or  more  idlers  back  to  camp. 


THE   RIVERMAN  21 

"  Get  out,  boys,"  he  ordered.  "  The  sheriff  will  be  here 
pretty  quick  now,  and  I  don't  want  any  row.  Get  out  of 
sight." 

"  And  leave  them  to  fight  her  out  alone  ?  Guess  not !  ° 
grumbled  a  tall,  burly  individual  with  a  red  face. 

Orde  immediately  walked  directly  to  this  man. 

"  Am  I  bossing  this  drive,  or  am  I  not  ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  riverman  growled  something. 

Smack!  Smack!  sounded  Orde's  fists.  The  man,  taken 
by  surprise,  went  down  in  a  heap,  but  immediately  re- 
bounded to  his  feet  as  though  made  of  rubber.  But  Orde 
had  seized  a  peavy,  and  stood  over  against  his  antagonist, 
the  murderous  weapon  upraised. 

"  Lie  down,  you  hound,  or  I'll  brain  you! "  he  roared  at 
the  top  strength  of  his  great  voice.  "  Want  fight,  do  you  ? 
Well,  you  won't  have  to  wait  till  the  sheriff  gets  here! 
You  make  a  move !  " 

For  a  full  half  minute  the  man  crouched  breathless, 
and  Orde,  his  ruddy  face  congested,  held  his  threaten- 
ing attitude.  Then  he  dropped  his  peavy  and  stepped 
aside. 

"  March ! "  he  commanded.  "  Get  your  turkey  and  hit 
the  hay  trail.  You'll  get  your  time  at  Redding." 

The  man  sullenly  arose  and  slouched  away,  grumbling 
under  his  breath.  Orde  watched  him  from  sight,  then  turned 
to  the  silent  group,  a  new  crispness  in  his  manner. 

"Well?"  he  demanded. 

Hesitating,  they  turned  to  the  river  trail,  leaving  the  ten 
still  working  at  the  sluice.  When  well  within  the  fringe 
of  the  brush,   Orde  called  a  halt.   His  customary   good-, 
humour  seemed  quite  restored. 

"  Now,  boys,"  he  commanded,  "  squat  down  and  lay  low. 
You  give  me  an  ache !  Don't  you  suppose  I  got  this  thing 
all  figured  out?  If  fight  would  do  any  good,  you  know 
^nighty  well  I'd  fight.  And  the  boys  won't  be  in  jail  any 


22  THE    RIVERMAN 

longer  than  it  takes  to  get  a  wire  to  Daly  to  bail  them  out 
Smoke  up,  and  don't  bother." 

They  filled  their  pipes  and  settled  down  to  an  enjoyment 
of  the  situation.  Ordinarily  from  very  early  in  the  morning 
until  very  late  at  night  the  riverman  is  busy  every  instant 
at  his  dangerous  and  absorbing  work.  Those  affairs  which 
do  not  immediately  concern  his  task — as  the  swiftness  of 
rapids,  the  state  of  flood,  the  curves  of  streams,  the  height 
of  water,  the  obstructions  of  channels,  the  quantities  of 
logs — pass  by  the  outer  fringe  of  his  consciousness,  if  in- 
deed they  reach  him  at  all.  Thus,  often  he  works  all  day 
up  to  his  waist  in  a  current  bearing  the  rotten  ice  of  the 
first  break-up,  or  endures  the  drenching  of  an  early  spring 
rain,  or  battles  the  rigours  of  a  belated  snow  with  apparent 
indifference.  You  or  I  would  be  exceedingly  uncomfortable ; 
would  require  an  effort  of  fortitude  to  make  the  plunge. 
Yet  these  men,  absorbed  in  the  mighty  problems  of  their 
task,  have  little  attention  to  spare  to  such  things.  The  cold, 
the  wet,  the  discomfort,  the  hunger,  the  weariness,  all  pass 
as  shadows  on  the  background.  In  like  manner  the  softer 
moods  of  the  spring  rarely  penetrate  through  the  concen^ 
tration  of  faculties  on  the  work.  The  warm  sun  shines; 
the  birds  by  thousands  flutter  and  twitter  and  sing  their 
way  north ;  the  delicate  green  of  spring,  showered  from  the 
hand  of  the  passing  Sower,  sprinkles  the  tops  of  the  trees, 
and  gradually  sifts  down  through  the  branches;  the  great, 
beautiful  silver  clouds  sail  down  the  horizon  like  ships  of 
a  statelier  age,  as  totally  without  actual  existence  to  these 
men.  The  logs,  the  river — those  are  enough  to  strain  all 
the  faculties  a  man  possesses,  and  more. 

So  when,  as  now,  a  chance  combination  of  circumstances 
brings  them  leisure  to  look  about  them,  the  forest  and  the 
world  of  out-of-doors  comes  to  them  with  a  freshness  im- 
possible for  the  city  dweller  to  realise.  The  surroundings 
are  accustomed,  but  they  bring  new  messages.  To  most  of 


THE    R1VERMAN  23 

them,  these  impressions  never  reach  the  point  of  coherency. 
They  brood,  and  muse,  and  expand  in  the  actual  and  fig- 
urative warmth,  and  proffer  the  general  opinion  that  it  is 
a  damn  fine  day! 

Another  full  half  hour  elapsed  before  the  situation  de- 
veloped further.  Then  Tom  North's  friend  Jim,  who  had 
gathered  his  long  figure  on  the  top  of  a  stump,  unclasped 
his  knees  and  remarked  that  old  Plug  Hat  was  back. 

The  men  arose  to  their  feet  and  peered  cautiously  through 
the  brush.  They  saw  Reed,  accompanied  by  a  thick-set  man 
whom  some  recognised  as  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  ap- 
proach the  edge  of  the  dam.  A  moment  later  the  working 
crew  mounted  to  the  top,  stacked  their  tools  neatly,  resumed 
their  coats  and  jackets,  and  departed  up  the  road  in  convoy 
of  the  sheriff. 

A  gasp  of  astonishment  broke  from  the  concealed  river- 
men. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  damned !  "  ejaculated  one.  "  What  are  we 
comin'  to?  That's  the  first  time  I  ever  see  one  lonesome 
sheriff  gather  in  ten  river-hogs  without  the  aid  of  a  gatlin* 
or  an  ambulance!  What's  the  matter  with  that  chicken- 
livered  bunch,  anyway  ?  " 

Orde  watched  them,  his  eyes  expressionless,  until  they 
had  disappeared  in  the  fringe  of  the  forest.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  astonished  group. 

"  Jim,"  said  he,  "  and  you,  Ellis,  and  you,  and  you,  and 
you,  and  you,  get  to  work  on  that  dam.  And  remember  this, 
if  you  are  arrested,  go  peaceably.  Any  resistance  will  spoil 
the  whole  game." 

The  men  broke  into  mingled  cheers  and  laughter  as  the 
full  significance  of  Orde's  plan  reached  them.  They 
streamed  back  to  the  dam,  where  they  perched  proffering 
advice  and  encouragement  to  those  about  to  descend. 

Immediately,  however,  Reed  was  out,  his  eyes  blazing 
either  side  his  hawk  nose. 


24  THE   RIVERMAN 

"Here!"  he  cried,  "quit  that!  I'll  have  ye  arrested!" 

"  Arrest  ahead,"  replied  Orde  coldly. 

Reed  stormed  back  and  forth  for  a  moment,  then  de- 
parted at  full  speed  up  the  road. 

"  Now,  boys,  get  as  much  done  as  possible,"  urged  Orde. 
"  We  better  get  back  in  the  brush,  or  he  may  try  to  take 
in  the  whole  b'iling  of  us  on  some  sort  of  a  blanket  war- 
rant." 

"How  about  the  other  boys?"  inquired  North. 

"  I  gave  one  of  them  a  telegram  to  send  to  Daly,"  re- 
plied Orde.  "  Daly  will  be  up  to  bail  them  out." 

Once  more  they  hid  in  the  woods;  and  again,  after  a 
longer  interval,  the  mill  owner  and  the  sheriff  reappeared. 
Reed  appeared  to  be  expostulating  violently,  and  a  number 
of  times  pointed  up  river ;  but  the  sheriff  went  ahead  stol- 
idly to  the  dam,  summoned  those  working  below,  and  de- 
parted up  the  road  as  before.  Reed  stood  uncertain  until 
he  saw  the  rivermen  beginning  to  re-emerge  from  the  brush, 
then  followed  the  officer  at  top  speed. 

Without  the  necessity  of  command,  a  half-dozen  men 
leaped  down  on  the  apron.  The  previous  crews  had  made 
considerable  progress  in  weakening  the  heavy  supports. 
As  soon  as  these  should  be  cut  out  and  the  backing  re- 
moved, the  mere  sawing  through  of  the  massive  sill  should 
carry  away  the  whole  obstruction. 

"Next  time  will  decide  it,"  remarked  Orde.  "If  the 
sheriff  brings  a  posse  and  sits  down  to  lay  for  us,  of 
course  we  won't  be  able  to  get  near  to  finish  the  job." 

"  I  didn't  think  that  of  George  Morris,"  commented  Sims 
in  an  aggrieved  way.  "  He  was  a  riverman  himself  once 
before  he  was  sheriff." 

"  He's  got  to  obey  orders,  and  serve  a  warrant  when 
it's  issued,  of  course,"  replied  Orde  to  this.  "What  did 
you  expect?" 

At  the  end  of  another  hour,  which  brought  the  time  to 


THE    RIVERMAN  25 

four  o'clock,  the  sheriff  made  his  third  appearance — this 
time  in  a  side-bar  buggy. 

"  I  wish  I  dared  join  that  confab,"  said  Orde,  "  and 
hear  what's  going  on,  but  I'm  afraid  he'd  jug  me  sure." 

"  He  wouldn't  jug  me,"  spoke  up  Newmark.  "  I'll  ge 
down." 

"  Bully  for  you !  "  agreed  Orde. 

The  young  man  departed  in  his  precise,  methodical  man- 
ner, picking  his  way  rather  mincingly  among  the  inequali- 
ties of  the  trail.  In  spite  of  the  worn  and  wrinkled  condi- 
tion of  his  garments,  they  retained  something  of  a  city 
hang  and  smartness  that  sharply  differentiated  their  wearer 
from  even  the  well-dressed  citizens  of  a  smaller  town. 
They  seemed  to  match  the  refined,  shrewd,  but  cold  intel- 
ligence of  his  lean  and  nervous  face. 

About  sunset  he  returned  from  a  scene  which  the  distant 
spectators  had  watched  with  breathless  interest.  It  was  in 
essence  only  a  repetition  of  the  two  that  had  preceded  it, 
but  Reed  had  evidently  gone  almost  to  the  point  of  vio- 
lence in  his  insistence,  and  the  sheriff  had  shaken  him  off 
rudely.  Finally,  Morris  and  his  six  prisoners  had  trailed 
away.  The  sheriff  and  North's  friend  occupied  the  seat 
of  the  buggy,  while  the  other  five  trudged  peaceably  along- 
side. Once  again  Reed  clattered  away  on  his  bony  steed, 
but  this  time  ahead  of  the  official  party. 

With  a  whoop  the  river  crew,  now  reduced  to  a  scant 
dozen,  rushed  down  to  meet  the  too  deliberate  Newmark. 

"  Well  ?  "  they  demanded,  crowding  about  him. 

"  Reed  wanted  the  sheriff  to  stay  and  protect  the  dam," 
reported  Newmark  in  his  brief,  dry  manner.  "  Sheriff  re- 
fused. Said  his  duty  was  simply  to  arrest  on  warrant,  and 
as  often  as  Reed  got  out  warrants,  he'd  serve  them.  Reed 
said,  then,  he  should  get  a  posse  and  hunt  up  Orde  and 
the  rest  of  them.  Sheriff  replied  that  as  far  as  he  could 
see,  the  terms  of  his  warrant  were  covered  by  the  men 


20  THE   RIVERMAN 

he  iound  working  on  the  dam.  Reed  demanded  protection, 
Sheriff  said  for  him  to  get  an  injunction,  and  it  would 
be  enforced." 

"Well,  that's  all  right,"  interjected  Orde  with  satisfac- 
tion. "We'll  have  her  cut  through  before  he  gets  that 
injunction,  and  I  guess  I've  got  men  enough  here  and 
down  river  to  get  through  before  we're  all  arrested." 

"Yes,"  said  Newmark,  "that's  all  very  well.  But  now 
he's  gone  to  telegraph  the  governor  to  send  the  troops." 

Orde  whistled  a  jig  tune. 

"  Kind  of  expected  that,  boys,"  said  he.  "  Let's  see.  The 
next  train  out  from  Redding —  They'll  oe  here  by  five  in 
the  morning  at  soonest.  Hope  it'll  be  later." 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  asked  Newmark. 

"  Take  chances,"  replied  Orde.  "  All  you  boys  get  to 
work.  Zeke,"  he  commanded  one  of  the  cookees,  "  go  up 
road,  and  report  if  Morris  comes  back.  I  reckon  this  time 
we'll  have  to  scatter  if  he  comes  after  us.  I  hope  we  won't 
have  to,  though.  Like  to  keep  everything  square  on  account 
of  this  State  troop  business." 

The  sun  had  dropped  below  the  fringe  of  trees,  which 
immediately  etched  their  delicate  outlines  against  a  pale, 
translucent  green  sky.  Two  straight,  thin  columns  of  smoke 
rose  fiom  the  neglected  camp-fires.  Orde,  glancing  around 
him,  noticed  these. 

"  Doctor,'*  he  commanded  sharply,  "  get  at  your  grub ! 
Make  some  coffee  right  off,  and  bring  it  down.  Get  the 
lanterns  from  the  wanigan,  and  bring  them  to  the  dam. 
Come  on,  boys !  " 

Over  a  score  of  men  attacked  the  sluice-way,  for  by  now 
part  of  the  rear  crew  had  come  down  river.  The  pond 
above  had  recovered  its  volume.  Water  was  beginning  to 
trickle  over  the  top  of  the  gate.  In  a  short  time  progress 
became  difficult,  almost  impossible.  The  men  worked  up 
to  their  knees  in  swift  water.  They  could  not  see,  and  the 


THE    RIVERMAN  27 

strokes  of  axe  or  pick  lost  much  of  their  force  against 
the  liquid.  Dusk  fell.  The  fringe  of  the  forest  became 
mysterious  in  its  velvet  dark.  Silver  streaks,  of  a  supernal 
calm,  suggested  the  reaches  of  the  pond.  Above,  the  sky's 
day  surface  unfolded  and  receded  and  dissolved  and  melted 
away  until,  through  the  pale  afterglow,  one  saw  beyond 
into  the  infinities.  Down  by  the  sluice  a  dozen  lanterns 
flickered  and  blinked  yellow  against  the  blue-blackness  of 
the  night. 

After  some  time  Orde  called  his  crew  off  and  opened 
the  sluice-gates.  The  water  had  become  too  deep  for  effect- 
ive work,  and  a  half  hour's  flow  would  reduce  the  pressure. 
The  time  was  occupied  in  eating  and  in  drying  off  about 
the  huge  fire  the  second  cookee  had  built  close  at  hand. 

"  Water  cold,  boys  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  Some,"  was  his  reply. 

"  Want  to  quit  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  mock  solicitude. 

"  Nary  quit." 

Orde's  shout  of  laughter  broke  the  night  silence  of  th% 
whispering  breeze  and  the  rushing  water. 

"  We'll  stick  to  'em  like  death  to  a  dead  nigger,"  was  his 
comment. 

Newmark,  having  extracted  a  kind  of  cardigan  jacket 
from  the  bag  he  had  brought  with  him  as  far  as  the  mill, 
looked  at  the  smooth,  iron-black  water  and  shivered. 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  the  men  lit  their  pipes  and 
went  back  to  work  philosophically.  With  entire  absorption 
in  the  task,  they  dug,  chopped,  and  picked.  The  dull  sound 
of  blows,  the  gurgle  and  trickle  of  the  water,  the  occa- 
sional grunt  or  brief  comment  of  a  riverman  alone  broke 
the  calm  of  evening.  Now  that  the  sluice-gate  was  down 
and  the  water  had  ceased  temporarily  to  flow  over  it,  the 
work  went  faster.  Orde,  watching  with  the  eye  of  an  ex~ 
pert,  vouchsafed  to  the  taciturn  Newmark  that  he  thought 
they'd  make  it. 


28  THE   RIVERMAN 

Near  midnight,  however,  a  swaying  lantern  was  seen 
approaching.  Orde,  leaping  to  his  feet  with  a  curse  at  the 
boy  on  watch,  heard  the  sound  of  wheels.  A  moment  later, 
Daly's  bulky  form  stepped  into  the  illumination  of  the  fire. 

Orde  wandered  over  to  where  his  principal  stood  peering 
about  him. 

"Hullo!"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are !  "  cried  Daly  angrily.  "  What  in  hell 
you  up  to  here  ?  " 

"  Running  logs,"  replied  Orde  coolly. 

"  Running  logs !  "  shouted  Daly,  tugging  at  his  overcoat 
pocket,  and  finally  producing  a  much-folded  newspaper. 
"How  about  this?" 

Orde  unfolded  the  paper  and  lowered  it  to  the  camp- 
fire.  It  was  an  extra,  screaming  with  wood  type.  He  read 
it  deliberately  over. 

WAR! 

the  headline  ran. 

RIOTING   AND   BLOODSHED    IN    THE   WOODS 
RIVERMEN    AND    DAM    OWNERS    CLASH  ! 

There  followed  a  vague  and  highly  coloured  statement 
to  the  effect  that  an  initial  skirmish  had  left  the  field  hi 
possession  of  the  rivermen,  in  spite  of  the  sheriff  and  a 
large  posse,  but  that  troops  were  being  rushed  to  the  spot, 
and  that  this  "  high-handed  defiance  of  authority  "  would 
undoubtedly  soon  be  suppressed.  It  concluded  truthfully 
with  the  statement  that  the  loss  of  life  was  as  yet  un- 
known. 

Orde  folded  up  the  paper  and  handed  it  back. 

"  Don't  you  know  any  better  than  to  get  into  that  kind 
of  a  row  down  here?"  Daly  had  been  saying.  "Do  you 
want  to  bring  us  up  for  good  here  ?  Don't  you  realise  that 


THE    RIVERMAN  29 

this  isn't  the  northern  peninsula?  What  are  you  trying  to 
do,  any  way  ?  " 

"  Sure  I  do,"  replied  Orde  placidly.  "  Come  along  here 
till  I  show  you  the  situation." 

Ten  minutes  later,  Daly,  relieved  in  his  mind,  was  stand- 
ing by  the  fire  drinking  hot  coffee  and  laughing  at  Orde's 
description  of  Reed's  plug  hat. 

To  Orde's  satisfaction,  the  sheriff  did  not  reappear.  Reed 
evidently  now  pinned  his  faith  to  the  State  troops. 

All  night  the  work  went  on,  the  men  spelling  each  other 
at  intervals  of  every  few  hours.  By  three  o'clock  the  main 
abutments  had  been  removed.  The  gate  was  then  blocked 
to  prevent  its  fall  when  its  nether  support  should  be  with- 
drawn, and  two  men,  leaning  over  cautiously,  began  at 
arm's-length  to  deliver  their  axe-strokes  against  the  middle 
of  the  sill-timbers  of  the  sluice  itself,  notching  each  heavy 
beam  deeply  that  the  force  of  the  current  might  finally 
break  it  in  two.  The  night  was  very  dark,  and  very  still. 
Even  the  night  creatures  had  fallen  into  the  quietude  that 
precedes  the  first  morning  hours.  The  muffled,  spaced  blows 
of  the  axes,  the  low-voiced  comments  or  directions  of  the 
workers,  the  crackle  of  the  fire  ashore  were  thrown  by 
contrast  into  an  undue  importance.  Men  in  blankets,  await- 
ing their  turn,  slept  close  to  the  blaze. 

Suddenly  the  vast  silence  of  before  dawn  was  broken  by 
a  loud  and  exultant  yell  from  one  of  the  axemen.  At  once 
the  two  scrambled  to  the  top  of  the  dam.  The  blanketed 
figures  about  the  fire  sprang  to  life.  A  brief  instant  later 
the  snapping  of  wood  fibres  began  like  the  rapid  explosions 
of  infantry  fire;  a  crash  and  bang  of  timbers  smote  the 
air;  and  then  the  river,  exultant,  roaring  with  joy,  rushed 
from  its  pent  quietude  into  the  new  passage  opened  for  it. 
At  the  same  moment,  as  though  at  the  signal,  a  single 
bird,  premonitor  of  the  yet  distant  day,  lifted  up  his  voice, 
clearly  audible  above  the  tumult. 


30  THE   RIVERMAN 

Orde  stormed  into  the  camp  up  stream,  his  eyes  bright, 
his  big  voice  booming  exultantly. 

"  Roll  out,  you  river-hogs ! "  he  shouted  to  those^  who 
had  worked  out  their  shifts  earlier  in  the  night.  "  Roll 
out,  you  web-footed  sons  of  guns,  and  hear  the  little  birds 
sing  praise ! " 

Newmark,  who  had  sat  up  the  night  through,  and  now 
shivered  sleepily  by  the  fire,  began  to  hunt  around  for 
the  bed-roll  he  had,  earlier  in  the  evening,  dumped  down 
somewhere  in  camp. 

"I  suppose  that's  all,"  said  he.  "Just  a  case  of  run 
logs  now.  I'll  turn  in  for  a  little." 

But  Orde,  a  thick  slice  of  bread  half-way  to  his  lips,  had 
frozen  in  an  attitude  of  attentive  listening. 

"  Hark !  "  said  he. 

Faint,  still  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  the  wandering 
morning  breeze  bore  to  their  ears  a  sound  whose  difference 
from  the  louder  noises  nearer  at  hand  alone  rendered  it 
audible. 

"  The  troops !  "  exclaimed  Orde. 

He  seized  a  lantern  and  returned  down  the  trail,  fol- 
lowed eagerly  by  Newmark  and  every  man  in  camp. 

"  Troops  coming !  "  said  Orde  to  Daly. 

The  men  drew  a  little  to  one  side,  watching  the  dim  line 
of  the  forest,  dark  against  the  paling  sky.  Shadows  seemed 
to  stir  in  its  blackness.  They  heard  quite  distinctly  the 
clink  of  metal  against  metal.  A  man  rode  out  of  the  shadow 
and  reined  up  by  the  fire.  "  Halt ! "  commanded  a  harsh 
voice.  The  rivermen  could  make  out  the  troops — three  or 
four  score  of  them — standing  rigid  at  attention.  Reed,  afoot 
now  in  favour  of  the  commanding  officer,  pushed  forward. 

"  Who  is  in  charge  here  ?  "  inquired  the  officer  crisply. 

"  I  am,"  replied  Orde,  stepping  forward. 

"  I  wish  to  inquire,  sir,  if  you  have  gone  mad  to  counsel 
your  men  to  resist  civil  authority?" 


THE    RIVERMAN  31 

"  I  have  not  resisted  civil  authority,"  replied  Orde  re- 
spectfully. 

"  It  has  been  otherwise  reported." 

"  The  reports  have  been  false.  The  sheriff  of  this  county 
has  arrested  about  twenty  of  my  men  single-handed  and 
without  the  slightest  trouble." 

"  Mr.  Morris,"  cried  the  officer  sharply. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  sheriff. 

"  Is  what  this  man  says  true  ? " 

"  It  sure  is.  Never  had  so  little  fuss  arrestin'  rivermen 
before  in  my  life." 

The  officer's  face  turned  a  slow  brick-red.  For  a  moment 
he  said  nothing,  then  exploded  with  the  utmost  violence. 

"  Then  why  the  devil  am  I  dragged  up  here  with  my 
men  in  the  night  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Who's  responsible  for  this 
insanity,  anyway?  Don't  you  know,"  he  roared  at  Reed, 
who  that  moment  swung  within  his  range  of  vision,  "  that 
I  have  no  standing  in  the  presence  of  civil  law?  What  do 
you  mean  getting  me  up  here  to  your  miserable  little  back- 
woods squabbles  ?  " 

Reed  started  to  say  something,  but  was  immediately  cut 
short  by  the  irate  captain. 

"  I've  nothing  to  do  with  that ;  settle  it  in  court.  Anc" 
'Vhat's  more,  you'll  have  something  yourself  to  settle  with 
the  State !  About,  face !  Forward,  march !  " 

The  men  faded  into  the  gray  light  as  though  dissolved 
by  it. 

A  deep  and  respectful  silence  fell  upon  the  men,  which 
was  broken  by  Orde's  solemn  and  dramatic  declamation. 

"  The  King  of  France  and  twice  ten  thousand  men 
Marched  up  the  hill,  and  then  marched  down  again," 

he  recited;  then  burst  into  his  deep  roar  of  laughter. 
"  Now  you  see,  boys,"  he  said,  digging  his  fists  into  hU 


32  THE   RIVERMAN 

eyes,  "  if  you'd  put  up  a  row,  what  we'd  have  got  into. 
No  blue-coats  in  mine,  thank  you.  Well,  push  the  grub 
pile,  and  then  get  at  those  logs.  It's  a  case  of  flood-water 
now." 

But  Reed,  having  recovered  from  his  astonishment,  had 
still  his  say. 

"I  tell  ye,  I'm  not  done  with  ye  yet,"  he  threatened, 
shaking  his  bony  forefinger  in  Orde's  face.  "  I'll  sue  ye 
for  damages,  and  I'll  git  'em,  too." 

"  See  here,  you  old  mossback,"  said  Orde,  thrusting  his 
bulky  form  to  the  fore,  "  you  sue  just  as  soon  as  you  want 
to.  You  can't  get  at  it  any  too  quick  to  suit  us.  But  just 
now  you  get  out  of  this  camp,  and  you  stay  out.  You're 
an  old  man,  and  we  don't  want  to  be  rough  with  you, 
but  you're  biting  off  more  than  you  can  chew.  Skedaddle ! " 

Reed  hesitated,  waving  his  long  arms  about,  flail-like^ 
as  though  to  begin  a  new  oration. 

"  Now,  do  hop  along,"  urged  Orde.  "  We'll  pay  you  any 
legitimate  damages,  of  course,  but  you  can't  expect  to  hang 
up  a  riverful  of  logs  just  on  a  notion.  And  we're  sick  of 
you.  Oh,  hell,  then!  See  here,  you  two;  just  see  that  this 
man  leaves  camp." 

Orde  turned  square  on  his  heel.  Reed,  after  a  glance  at 
the  two  huge  rivermen  approaching,  beat  a  retreat  to  his 
mill,  muttering  and  wrathful  still. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  boys,"  said  Daly,  pulling  on  his  over- 
coat; "I'll  just  get  along  and  bail  the  boys  out  of  that 
village  calaboose.  I  reckon  they've  had  a  good  night's  rest. 
Be  good ! " 

The  fringe  of  trees  to  eastward  showed  clearly  against 
the  whitening  sky.  Hundreds  of  birds  of  all  kinds  sang 
in  an  ecstasy.  Another  day  had  begun.  Already  men  with 
pike-poles  were  guiding  the  sullen  timbers  toward  the 
sluice-way. 


IV 


WHEN  Nev;mark  awoke  once  more  to  interest  in 
affairs,  the  morning  was  well  spent.  On  the  river 
the  work  was  going  forward  with  the  precision 
of  clockwork'.  The  six-foot  lowering  of  the  sluice-way  had 
produced  a  fine  current,  which  sucked  the  logs  down  from 
above.  Men  were  busily  engaged  in  "  sacking  "  them  from 
the  sides  of  the  pond  toward  its  centre,  lest  the  lowering 
water  should  leave  them  stranded.  Below  the  dam  the  jam 
crew  was  finding  plenty  to  do  in  keeping  them  moving  in 
the  white-water  and  the  shallows.  A  fine  sun,  tempered 
with  a  prophetic  warmth  of  later  spring,  animated  the 
scene.  Reed  had  withdrawn  to  the  interior  of  his  mill,  and 
appeared  to  have  given  up  the  contest. 

Some  of  the  logs  shot  away  down  the  current,  running 
freely.  To  these  the  crews  were  not  required  to  pay  any 
attention.  With  luck,  a  few  of  the  individual  timbers  would 
float  ten,  even  twenty,  miles  before  some  chance  eddy  or 
fortuitous  obstruction  would  bring  them  to  rest.  Such  ed- 
dies and  obstructions,  however,  drew  a  constant  toll  from 
the  ranks  of  the  free-moving  logs,  so  that  always  the  vol- 
ume of  timbers  floating  with  the  current  diminished,  and 
always  the  number  of  logs  caught  and  stranded  along  the 
sides  of  the  river  increased.  To  restore  these  to  the  faster 
water  was  the  especial  province  of  the  last  and  most  ex- 
pert crew — the  rear. 

Orde  discovered  about  noon  that  the  jam  crew  was  hav- 
ing its  troubles.  Immediately  below  Reed's  dam  ran  a  long 
chute  strewn  with  boulders,  which  was  alternately  a  shal- 

33 


34  THE   RIVERMAN 

low  or  a  stretch  of  white-water  according  as  the  stream 
rose  or  fell.  Ordinarily  the  logs  were  flushed  over  this 
declivity  by  opening  the  gate,  behind  which  a  head  of  water 
had  been  accumulated.  Now,  however,  the  efficiency  of  the 
gate  had  been  destroyed.  Orde  early  discovered  that  he 
was  likely  to  have  trouble  in  preventing  the  logs  rushing 
through  the  chute  from  grounding  into  a  bad  jam  on  the 
rapids  below. 

For  a  time  the  jam  crew  succeeded  in  keeping  the 
"wings"  clear.  In  the  centre  of  the  stream,  however,  a 
small  jam  formed,  like  a  pier.  Along  the  banks  logs 
grounded,  and  were  rolled  over  by  their  own  momentum 
into  places  so  shallow  as  to  discourage  an>  hope  of  re- 
floating them  unless  by  main  strength.  As  the  sluicing  of 
the  nine  or  ten  million  feet  that  constituted  this  particular 
drive  went  forward,  the  situation  rapidly  became  worse. 

"  Tom,  we've  got  to  get  flood-water  unless  we  want  to 
run  into  an  awful  job  there,"  said  Orde  to  the  foreman. 
"  I  wonder  if  we  can't  drop  that  gate  'way  down  to  get 
something  for  a  head." 

The  two  men  examined  the  chute  and  the  sluice-gate 
attentively  for  some  time. 

"If  we  could  clear  out  the  splinters  and  rubbish,  we 
might  spike  a  couple  of  saplings  on  each  side  for  the  gate 
to  slide  down  into,"  speculated  North.  "  Might  try  her  on." 

The  logs  were  held  up  in  the  pond,  and  a  crew  of  men 
set  to  work  to  cut  away,  as  well  as  they  might  in  the 
rush  of  water,  the  splintered  ends  of  the  old  sill  and  apron. 
It  was  hard  work.  Newmark,  watching,  thought  it  im- 
practicable. The  current  rendered  footing  impossible,  so 
all  the  work  had  to  be  done  from  above.  Wet  wood  gripped 
the  long  saws  vice-like,  so  that  a  man's  utmost  strength 
could  scarcely  budge  them.  The  water  deadened  the  force 
of  axe-blows.  Nevertheless,  with  the  sure  persistence  of  the 
riverman,  they  held  to  it.  Orde,  watching  them  a  few 


THE    RIVERMAN  35 

moments,  satisfied  himself  that  they  would  succeed,  and  so 
departed  up  river  to  take  charge  of  the  rear. 

This  crew  he  found  working  busily  among  some  over- 
flowed woods.  They  were  herding  the  laggards  of  the  flock. 
The  subsidence  of  the  water  consequent  upon  the  opening 
of  the  sluice-gate  had  left  stranded  and  in  shallows  many 
hundreds  of  the  logs.  These  the  men  sometimes,  waist  deep 
in  the  icy  water,  owing  to  the  extreme  inequality  of  the  bot- 
tom, were  rolling  over  and  over  with  their  peavies  until 
once  more  they  floated.  Some  few  the  rivermen  were  forced 
to  carry  bodily,  ten  men  to  a  side,  the  peavies  clamped 
in  as  handles.  When  once  they  were  afloat,  the  task  became 
easier.  From  the  advantage  of  deadwood,  stumps,  or  other 
logs  the  "  sackers  "  pushed  the  unwieldy  timbers  forward, 
leaping,  splashing,  heaving,  shoving,  until  at  last  the  steady 
current  of  the  main  river  seized  the  logs  and  bore  them  away. 
With  marvellous  skill  they  topped  the  dripping,  bobby, 
rolling  timbers,  treading  them  over  and  over,  back  and 
forth,  in  unconscious  preservation  of  equilibrium. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  noise  and  fun  at  the  rear. 
The  crew  had  been  divided,  and  a  half  worked  on  either 
side  the  river.  A  rivalry  developed  as  to  which  side  should 
advance  fastest  in  the  sacking.  It  became  a  race.  Momen- 
tary success  in  getting  ahead  of  the  other  fellow  was  occa- 
sion for  exultant  crowing,  while  a  mishap  called  forth 
ironic  cheers  and  catcalls  from  the  rival  camp.  Just  as  Orde 
came  tramping  up  the  trail,  one  of  the  rivermen's  caulks 
failed  to  "  bite  "  on  an  unusually  smooth,  barked  surface. 
His  foot  slipped ;  the  log  rolled ;  he  tried  in  vain  to  regain 
his  balance,  and  finally  fell  in  with  a  heavy  splash. 

The  entire  river  suspended  work  to  send  up  a  howl  of 
delight.  As  the  unfortunate  crawled  out,  dripping  from 
head  to  foot,  he  was  greeted  by  a  flood  of  sarcasm  and 
profane  inquiry  that  left  no  room  for  even  his  acknowl- 
edged talents  of  repartee.  Cursing  and  ashamed,  he  made 


36  THE   RIVERMAN 

his  way  ashore  over  the  logs,  spirting  water  at  every  step. 
There  he  wrung  out  his  woollen  clothes  as  dry  as  he  could, 
and  resumed  work. 

Hardly  had  Orde  the  opportunity  to  look  about  at  the 
progress  making,  however,  before  he  heard  his  name 
shouted  from  the  bank.  Looking  up,  to  his  surprise  he  saw 
the  solemn  cook  waving  a  frantic  dish-towel  at  him.  Noth- 
ing could  induce  the  cook  to  attempt  the  logs. 

"  What  is  it,  Charlie  ?  "  asked  Orde,  leaping  ashore  and 
stamping  the  loose  water  from  his  boots. 

"  It's  all  off,"  confided  the  cook  pessimistically.  "  It's  no 
good.  He's  stopped  us  now." 

"What's  off?    Who's  stopped  what?" 

"Reed.  He's  druv  the  men  from  the  dam  with  a  shot- 
gun. We  might  as  well  quit." 

"Shotgun,  hey!"  exclaimed  Orde.  "Well,  the  old  son 
of  a  gun ! "  He  thought  a  moment,  his  lips  puckered  as 
though  to  whistle;  then,  as  usual,  he  laughed  amusedly. 
"  Let's  go  take  a  look  at  the  army,"  said  he. 

He  swung  away  at  a  round  pace,  followed  rather  breath- 
lessly by  the  cook.  The  trail  led  through  the  brush  across 
a  little  flat  point,  up  over  a  high  bluff  where  the  river 
swung  in,  down  to  another  point,  and  across  a  pole  trail 
above  a  marsh  to  camp. 

A  pole  trail  consists  of  saplings  laid  end  to  end,  and 
supported  three  or  four  feet  above  wet  places  by  means 
of  sawbuck-like  structures  at  their  extremities.  To  a  river- 
man  or  a  tight-rope  dancer  they  are  easy  walks.  All  others 
must  proceed  cautiously  in  contrite  memory  of  their  sins. 

Orde  marched  across  the  first  two  lengths  confidently 
enough.  Then  he  heard  a  splash  and  lamentations.  Turn- 
ing, he  perceived  Charlie,  covered  with  mud,  in  the  act 
of  clambering  up  one  of  the  small  trestles. 

"  Ain't  got  no  caulks !  "  ran  the  lamentations.  "  The • 

of  a of  a  pole-trail,  anyways ! " 


THE   RIVERMAN  37 

He  walked  ahead  gingerly,  threw  his  hands  aloft,  bent 
forward,  then  suddenly  protruded  his  stomach,  held  out  one 
foot  in  front  of  him,  spasmodically  half  turned,  and  then, 
realising  the  case  hopeless,  wilted  like  a  wet  rag,  to  clasp 
the  pole  trail  both  by  arm  and  leg.  This  saved  him  from 
falling  off  altogether,  but  swung  him  underneath,  where 
he  hung  like  the  sloths  in  the  picture-books.  A  series  of 
violent  wriggles  brought  him,  red-faced  and  panting,  astride 
the  pole,  whence,  his  feelings  beyond  mere  speech,  he  sadly 
eyed  his  precious  derby,  which  lay,  crown  up,  in  the  mud 
below. 

Orde  contemplated  the  spectacle  seriously. 

"  Sorry  I  haven't  got  time  to  enjoy  you  just  now,  Char- 
lie," he  remarked.  "  I'd  take  it  slower,  if  I  were  you." 

He  departed,  catching  fragments  of  vows  anent  never 
going  on  any  more  errands  for  nobody,  and  getting  his 
time  if  ever  again  he  went  away  from  his  wanigan. 

Orde  stopped  short  outside  the  fringe  of  brush  to  utter 
another  irrepressible  chuckle  of  amusement. 

The  centre  of  the  dam  was  occupied  by  Reed.  The  old 
man  was  still  in  full  regalia,  his  plug  hat  fuzzier  than  ever, 
and  thrust  even  farther  back  on  his  head,  his  coat-tails  and 
loose  trousers  flapping  at  his  every  movement  as  he  paced 
back  and  forth  with  military  precision.  Over  his  shoulder 
he  carried  a  long  percussion-lock  shotgun.  Not  thirty  feet 
Rway,  perched  along  the  bank,  for  all  the  world  like  a  row 
of  cormorants,  sat  the  rivermen,  watching  him  solemnly 
and  in  silence. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  Orde,  approaching. 

The  old  man  surveyed  him  with  a  snort  of  disgust. 

"  If  the  law  of  the  land  don't  protect  me,  I'll  protect  my- 
self, sir,"  he  proclaimed.  "  I  give  ye  fair  warning !  I  ain't 
a-going  to  have  my  property  interfered  with  no  more." 

"  But  surely,"  said  Orde,  "  we  have  a  right  to  run  our 
logs  through.  It's  an  open  river," 


38  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  And  hev  ye  been  running  your  logs  through  ?  "  cried 
the  old  man  excitedly.  "  Hev  ye?  First  off  ye  begin  to  tear 
down  my  dam;  and  then,  when  the  river  begins  a-roarin' 
and  a-ragin'  through,  then  you  tamper  with  my  improve- 
ments furthermore,  a-lowerin'  the  gate  and  otherwise 
a-modifyin'  my  structure." 

Orde  stepped  forward  to  say  something  further.  Imme- 
diately Reed  wheeled,  his  thumb  on  the  hammer. 

"All  right,  old  Spirit  of  '76,"  replied  Orde.  "Don't 
shoot;  I'll  come  down." 

He  walked  back  to  the  waiting  row,  smiling  quiz- 
zically. 

"  Well,  you  calamity  howlers,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

Nobody  answered,  but  everybody  looked  expectant. 

"Think  he'd  shoot?"  inquired  Orde  of  Tom  North. 

"  I  know  he  would,"  replied  North  earnestly.  "  That 
crazy-headed  kind  are  just  the  fellers  to  rip  loose." 

"  I  think  myself  he  probably  would,"  agreed  Orde. 

"  Surely,"  spoke  up  Newmark,  "  whatever  the  status  of 
the  damage  suits,  you  have  the  legal  right  to  run  your 
logs." 

Orde  rolled  a  quizzical  eye  in  his  direction. 

"  Per-fect-ly  correct,  son,"  he  drawled,  "  but  we're  en- 
gaged in  the  happy  occupation  of  getting  out  logs.  By  the 
time  the  law  was  all  adjusted  and  a  head  of  steam  up, 
the  water'd  be  down.  In  this  game,  you  get  out  logs  first, 
and  think  about  law  afterward." 

"  How  about  legal  damages  ?  "  insisted  Newmark. 

"  Legal  damages !  "  scoffed  Orde.  "  Legal  damages ! 
Why,  we  count  legal  damages  as  part  of  our  regular  ex- 
penses— like  potatoes.  It's  lucky  it's  so,"  he  added.  "  If 
anybody  paid  any  attention  to  legal  technicalities,  there'd 
never  be  a  log  delivered.  A  man  always  has  enemies." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  persisted  New- 
mark. 


THE    RIVERMAN  39 

Orde  thrust  back  his  felt  hat  and  ran  his  fingers  through 
his  short,  crisp  hair. 

"  There  you've  got  me,"  he  confessed,  "  but,  if  necessary, 
we'll  pile  the  old  warrior." 

He  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  dam  and  stood  looking 
down  current.  For  perhaps  a  full  minute  he  remained 
there  motionless,  his  hat  clinging  to  one  side,  his  hand  in 
his  hair.  Then  he  returned  to  the  grimly  silent  rivermen. 

"  Boys,"  he  commanded  briefly,  "  get  your  peavies  and 
come  along." 

He  led  the  way  past  the  mill  to  the  shallows  below. 

"  There's  a  trifle  of  wading  to  do,"  he  announced. 
"  Bring  down  two  logs — fairly  big — and  hold  them  by  that 
old  snag,"  he  ordered.  "  Whoa-up !  Easy !  Hold  them  end 
on — no,  pointing  up  stream — fix  'em  about  ten  foot  apart — 
that's  it !  George,  drive  a  couple  of  stakes  each  side  of  them 
to  hold  'em.  Correct !  Now,  run  down  a  couple  dozen  more 
and  pile  them  across  those  two — side  on  to  the  stream,  of 
course.  Roll  'em  up — that's  the  ticket !  " 

Orde  had  been  splashing  about  in  the  shallow  water, 
showing  where  each  timber  was  to  be  placed.  He  drew  back, 
eyeing  the  result  with  satisfaction.  It  looked  rather  like  a 
small  and  bristly  pier. 

Next  he  cast  his  eye  about  and  discovered  a  partially 
submerged  boulder  on  a  line  with  the  newly  completed 
structure.  Against  this  he  braced  the  ends  of  two  more 
iogs,  on  which  he  once  more  caused  to  be  loaded  at  right 
ingles  many  timbers.  An  old  stub  near  shore  furnished 
lim  the  basis  of  a  third  pier.  He  staked  a  thirty-inch  butt 
for  a  fourth;  and  so  on,  until  the  piers,  in  conjunction 
with  the  small  centre  jam  already  mentioned,  extended 
quite  across  the  river. 

All  this  was  accomplished  in  a  very  short  time,  and  im- 
mediately below  the  mill,  but  beyond  sight  from  the  sluice-  \ 
gate  of  the  dam. 

'       I 


4o  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Now,  boys,"  commanded  Orde,  "  shove  off  some  shore 
logs,  and  let  them  come  down." 

"  We'll  have  a  jam  sure,"  objected  Purdy  stupidly. 

"No,  my  son,  would  we?"  mocked  Orde.  "I  surely 
hope  not ! " 

The  stray  logs  floating  down  with  the  current  the  river- 
men  caught  and  arranged  to  the  best  possible  advantage 
about  the  improvised  piers.  A  good  riverman  understands 
the  correlation  of  forces  represented  by  saw-logs  and  water- 
pressure.  He  knows  how  to  look  for  the  key-log  in  break- 
ing jams;  and  by  the  inverse  reasoning,  when  need  arises 
he  can  form  a  jam  as  expertly  as  Koosy-oonek  him- 
self— that  bad  little  god  who  brings  about  the  disagree- 
able and  undesired — "who  hides  our  pipes,  steals  our 
last  match,  and  brings  rain  on  the  just  when  they  want 
to  go  fishing." 

So  in  ten  seconds  after  the  shore  logs  began  drifting 
down  from  above,  the  jam  was  taking  shape.  Slowly  it 
formed,  low  and  broad.  Then,  as  the  water  gathered  pres- 
sure, the  logs  began  to  slip  over  one  another.  The  weight 
of  the  topmost  sunk  those  beneath  to  the  bed  of  the  stream. 
This  to  a  certain  extent  dammed  back  the  water.  Imme- 
diately the  pressure  increased.  More  logs  were  piled  on 
top.  The  piers  locked  the  structure.  Below  the  improvised 
dam  the  water  fell  almost  to  nothing,  and  above  it,  swirling 
in  eddies,  grumbling  fiercely,  bubbling,  gurgling,  searching 
busily  for  an  opening,  the  river,  turned  back  on  itself, 
gathered  its  swollen  and  angry  forces. 

"  That  will  do,  boys,"  said  Orde  with  satisfaction. 

He  led  the  way  to  the  bank  and  sat  down.  The  men 
followed  his  example.  Every  moment  the  water  rose,  and 
each  instant,  as  more  logs  came  down  the  current,  the  jam 
became  more  formidable. 

"  Nothing  can  stand  that  pressure,"  breathed  Newmark, 
fascinated. 


THE   RIVERMAN  41 

"  The  bigger  the  pressure  the  tighter  she  locks,"  replied 
Orde,  lighting  his  pipe. 

The  high  bank  where  the  men  sat  lay  well  above  the 
reach  of  the  water.  Not  so  the  flat  on  which  stood  Reed's 
mill.  In  order  to  take  full  advantage  of  the  water-power 
developed  by  the  dam,  the  old  man  had  caused  his  struc- 
ture to  be  built  nearly  at  a  level  with  the  stream.  Now  the 
river,  backing  up,  rapidly  overflowed  this  flat.  As  the  jam 
tightened  by  its  own  weight  and  the  accumulation  of  logs, 
the  water  fairly  jumped  from  the  lowest  floor  of  the  mill  to 
the  one  above. 

Orde  had  not  long  to  wait  for  Reed's  appearance.  In 
less  than  five  minutes  the  old  man  descended  on  the  group,, 
somewhat  of  his  martial  air  abated,  and  something  of  a 
vague  anxiety  manifest  in  his  eye. 

"  What's  the  matter  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Matter  ?  "  inquired  Orde  easily.  "  Oh,  nothing  much, 
just  a  little  jam." 

"  But  it's  flooding  my  mill !  " 

"  So  I  perceive,"  replied  Orde,  striking  a  match. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  break  it?" 

"  Not  interested." 

The  old  warrior  ran  up  the  bank  to  where  he  could  get 
a  good  view  of  his  property.  The  water  was  pouring  into 
the  first-floor  windows. 

"  Here !  "  he  cried,  running  back.  "  I've  a  lot  of  grain 
up-stairs.  It'll  be  ruined !  " 

"  Not  interested,"  repeated  Orde. 

Reed  was  rapidly  losing  control  of  himself. 

"  But  I've  got  a  lot  of  money  invested  here !  "  he  shouted. 
"  You  miserable  blackguard,  you're  ruining  me !  " 

Orde  replaced  his  pipe. 

Reed  ran  back  and  forth  frantically,  disappeared,  re- 
turned bearing  an  antiquated  pike-pole,  and  single-handed 
and  alone  attacked  the  jam! 


42  THE   RIVERMAN 

Astonishment  and  delight  held  the  rivermen  breathless 
for  a  moment.  Then  a  roar  of  laughter  drowned  even  the 
noise  of  the  waters.  Men  pounded  each  other  on  the  back, 
rolled  over  and  over,  clutching  handfuls  of  earth,  strug- 
gled weak  and  red-faced  for  breath  as  they  saw  against 
the  sky-line  of  the  bristling  jam  the  lank,  flapping  figure 
with  the  old  plug  hat  pushing  frantically  against  the  im- 
movable statics  of  a  mighty  power.  The  exasperation  of 
delay,  the  anxiety  lest  success  be  lost  through  the  mulish 
and  narrow-minded  obstinacy  of  one  man,  the  resentment 
against  another  obstacle  not  to  be  foreseen  and  not  to  be 
expected  in  a  task  redundantly  supplied  with  obstacles  of 
its  own — these  found  relief  at  last. 

"  By  Jove !  "  breathed  Newmark  softly  to  himself.  "  Don 
Quixote  and  the  windmills !  "  Then  he  added  vindictively, 
"  The  old  fool !  "  although,  of  course,  the  drive  was  not 
his  personal  concern. 

Only  Orde  seemed  to  see  the  other  side.  And  on  Orde 
the  responsibility,  uncertainty,  and  vexation  had  borne  most 
heavily,  for  the  success  of  the  undertaking  was  in  his 
hands.  With  a  few  quick  leaps  he  had  gained  the  old 
man's  side. 

"  Look  here,  Reed,"  he  said  kindly,  "  you  can't  break 
this  jam.  Come  ashore  now,  and  let  up.  You'll  kill  your- 
self." 

Reed  turned  to  him,  a  wild  light  in  his  eye. 

"  Break  it !  "  he  pleaded.  "  You're  ruining  me.  I've  got 
all  my  money  in  that  mill." 

"  Well,"  said  Orde,  "  we've  got  a  lot  of  money  in  our 
logs  too.  You  haven't  treated  us  quite  right." 

Reed  glanced  frantically  toward  the  flood  up  stream. 

"  Come,"  said  Orde,  taking  him  gently  by  the  arm. 
"  There's  no  reason  you  and  I  shouldn't  get  along  together 
all  right.  Maybe  we're  both  a  little  hard-headed.  Let's  talk 
it  over." 


THE    RIVERMAN  43 

He  led  the  old  man  ashore,  and  out  of  earshot  of  the 
rivermen. 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  he  returned. 

"  War's  over,  boys !  "  he  shouted  cheerfully.  "  Get  in  and 
break  that  jam." 

At  once  the  crew  swarmed  across  the  log  barrier  to  a 
point  above  the  centre  pier.  This  they  attacked  with  their 
peavies,  rolling  the  top  logs  off  into  the  current  below. 
In  less  than  no  time  they  had  torn  out  quite  a  hole  in  the 
*op  layer.  The  river  rushed  through  the  opening.  Imme- 
diately the  logs  in  the  wings  were  tumbled  in  from  either 
.  ide.  At  first  the  men  had  to  do  all  of  the  work,  but  soon 
the  river  itself  turned  to  their  assistance.  Timbers  creaked 
•and  settled,  or  rose  slightly  buoyant  as  the  water  loosened 
the  tangle.  Men  trod  on  the  edge  of  expectation.  Constantly 
the  logs  shifted,  and  as  constantly  the  men  shifted  also, 
avoiding  the  upheavals  and  grindings  together,  wary  eyes 
estimating  the  correlation  of  the  forces  into  whose  crushing 
reach  a  single  misstep  would  bring  them.  The  move- 
ment accelerated  each  instant,  as  the  music  of  the  play 
hastens  to  the  climax.  Wood  fibres  smashed.  The  whole 
mass  seemed  to  sink  down  and  forward  into  a  boil- 
ing of  waters.  Then,  with  a  creak  and  a  groan,  the  jam 
moved,  hesitated,  moved  again ;  finally,  urged  by  the 
frantic  river,  went  out  in  a  majestic  crashing  and  batter- 
ing of  logs. 

At  the  first  movement  Newmark  expected  the  rivermen 
to  make  their  escape.  Instead,  they  stood  at  attention,  their 
peavies  poised,  watching  cat-eyed  the  symptoms  of  the 
break.  Twice  or  thrice  several  of  the  men,  observing  some- 
thing not  evident  to  Newmark's  unpractised  eye,  ran  for- 
ward, used  their  peavies  vigorously  for  a  moment  or  so, 
and  stood  back  to  watch  the  result.  Only  at  the  very  last, 
when  it  would  seem  that  some  of  them  must  surely  be 
caught,  did  the  river- jacks,  using  their  peavy-shafts  as  bal- 


44  THE   RIVERMAN 

ancing  poles,  zigzag  calmly  to  shore  across  the  plunging 
logs.  Newmark  seemed  impressed. 

"That  was  a  close  shave,"  said  he  to  the  last  man 
ashore. 

"What?"  inquired  the  riverman.  "Didn't  see  it.  Some- 
body fall  down?" 

"Why,  no,"  explained  Newmark;  "getting  in  off  those 
logs  without  getting  caught." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  man  indifferently,  turning  away. 

The  going  out  of  the  jam  drained  the  water  from  the 
lower  floors  of  the  mill;  the  upper  stories  and  the  grain 
were  still  safe. 

By  evening  the  sluice-gate  had  been  roughly  provided 
with  pole  guides  down  which  to  slide  to  the  bed  of  the 
river.  The  following  morning  saw  the  work  going  on  as 
methodically  as  ever.  During  the  night  a  very  good  head 
of  water  had  gathered  behind  the  lowered  gate.  The  rear 
crew  brought  down  the  afterguard  of  logs  to  the  pond. 
The  sluicers  with  their  long  pike-poles  thrust  the  logs  into 
the  chute.  The  jam  crew,  scattered  for  many  miles  along 
the  lower  stretches,  kept  the  drive  going;  running  out 
over  the  surface  of  the  river  like  water-bugs  to  thrust 
apart  logs  threatening  to  lock;  leaning  for  hours  on  the 
shafts  of  their  peavies  watching  contemplatively  the  or- 
derly ranks  as  they  drifted  by,  sleepy,  on  the  bosom  of 
the  river;  occasionally  gathering,  as  the  filling  of  the  river 
gave  warning,  to  break  a  jam.  By  the  end  of  the  second 
day  the  pond  was  clear,  and  as  Charlie's  wanigan  was 
drifting  toward  the  chute,  the  first  of  Johnson's  drive 
floated  into  the  head  of  the  pond. 


V 

CHARLIE'S  wanigan,  in  case  you  do  not  happen  to 
know  what  such  a  thing  may  be,  was  a  scow  about 
twenty  feet  long  by  ten  wide.  It  was  very  solidly 
constructed  of  hewn  timbers,  square  at  both  ends,  was  in- 
conceivably clumsy,  and  weighed  an  unbelievable  number 
of  pounds.  When  loaded,  it  carried  all  the  bed-rolls,  tents, 
provisions,  cooking  utensils,  tools,  and  a  chest  of  tobacco, 
clothes,  and  other  minor  supplies.  It  was  managed  by 
Charlie  and  his  two  cookees  by  means  of  pike-poles  and  a 
long  sweep  at  either  end.  The  pike-poles  assured  progress 
when  the  current  slacked;  the  sweeps  kept  her  head-on 
when  drifting  with  the  stream. 

Charlie's  temperament  was  pessimistic  at  best.  When  the 
wanigan  was  to  be  moved,  he  rose  fairly  to  the  heights 
of  what  might  be  called  destructive  prophecy. 

The  packing  began  before  the  men  had  finished  break- 
fast. Shortly  after  daylight  the  wanigan,  pushed  strongly 
from  shore  by  the  pike-poles,  was  drifting  toward  the  chute. 
When  the  heavy  scow  threatened  to  turn  side-on,  the  sweeps 
at  either  end  churned  the  water  frantically  in  an  endeavour 
to  straighten  her  out.  Sometimes,  by  a  misunderstanding, 
they  worked  against  each  other.  Then  Charlie,  raging  from 
one  to  the  other  of  his  satellites,  frothed  and  roared  com- 
mands and  vituperations.  His  voice  rose  to  a  shriek.  The 
cookees,  bewildered  by  so  much  violence,  lost  their  heads 
completely.  Then  Charlie  abruptly  fell  to  an  exaggerated 
calm.  He  sat  down  amidships  on  a  pile  of  bags,  and  gazed 
with  ostentatious  indifference  out  over  the  pond.  Finally, 

45 


4.6  THE   RIVERMAN 

in  a  voice  fallen  almost  to  a  whisper,  and  with  an  elaborate 
politeness,  Charlie  proffered  a  request  that  his  assistants 
acquire  the  sense  God  gave  a  rooster.  Newmark,  who  had 
elected  to  accompany  the  wanigan  on  its  voyage,  evidently 
found  it  vastly  amusing,  for  his  eyes  twinkled  behind  his 
glasses.  As  the  wanigan  neared  the  sluice  through  which 
it  must  shoot  the  flood-water,  the  excitement  mounted  to 
fever  pitch.  The  water  boiled  under  the  strokes  of  the  long 
steering  oars.  The  air  swirled  with  the  multitude  and  vigour 
of  Charlie's  commands.  As  many  of  the  driving  crew  as 
were  within  distance  gathered  to  watch.  It  was  a  supreme 
moment.  As  Newmark  looked  at  the  smooth  rim  of  the 
water  sucking  into  the  chute,  he  began  to  wonder  why 
he  had  come. 

However,  the  noble  ship  was  pointed  right  at  last,  and 
caught  the  faster  water  head-on.  Even  Charlie  managed 
to  look  cheerful  for  an  instant,  and  to  grin  at  his  passenger 
as  he  wiped  his  forehead  with  a  very  old,  red  handker- 
chief. 

"  All  right  now,"  he  shouted. 

Zeke  and  his  mate  took  in  the  oars.  The  wanigan  shot 
forward  below  the  gate — 

Whack!  Bump!  Bang!  and  the  scow  stopped  so  sud- 
denly that  its  four  men  plunged  forward  in  a  miscellaneous 
heap,  while  Zeke  narrowly  escaped  going  overboard.  Al- 
most immediately  the  water,  backed  up  behind  the  stern, 
began  to  overflow  into  the  boat.  Newmark,  clearing  his 
vision  as  well  as  he  could  for  lack  of  his  glasses,  saw 
that  the  scow  had  evidently  run  her  bow  on  an  obstruction, 
and  had  been  brought  to  a  standstill  square  beneath  the 
sluice-gate.  Men  seemed  to  be  running  toward  them.  The 
water  was  beginning  to  flow  the  entire  length  of  the  boat. 
Various  lighter  articles  shot  past  him  and  disappeared  over 
the  side.  Charlie  had  gone  crazy  and  was  grabbing  at  these, 
quite  uselessly,  for  as  fast  as  he  had  caught  one  thing  he 


THE    RIVERMAN  47 

let  it  go  in  favour  of  another.  The  cookees,  retaining  some 
small  degree  of  coolness,  were  pushing  uselessly  with  pike- 
poles. 

Newmark  had  an  inspiration.  The  more  important  mat- 
ters, such  as  the  men's  clothes-bags,  the  rolls  of  bedding, 
and  the  heavier  supplies  of  provisions,  had  not  yet  cut 
loose  from  their  moorings,  although  the  rapid  backing  of 
the  water  hreatened  soon  to  convert  the  wanigan  into  a 
chute  for  >.  «arly  the  full  volume  of  the  current.  He  seized 
one  of  the  long  oars,  thrust  the  blade  under  the  edge  of 
a  thwart  astern  laid  the  shaft  of  the  oar  across  the  cargo, 
and  by  resting  his  weight  on  the  handle  attempted  to  bring 
it  down  to  bind  the  contents  of  the  wanigan  to  their 
places.  The  cookees  saw  what  he  was  about,  and  came  to 
his  assistance.  Together  they  succeeded  in  bending  the  long 
hickory  sweep  far  enough  to  catch  its  handle-end  under 
another,  forward,  thwart.  The  second  oar  was  quickly 
locked  alongside  the  first,  and  not  a  moment  too  soon.  A 
rush  of  water  forced  them  all  to  cling  for  their  lives.  The 
poor  old  wanigan  was  almost  buried  by  the  river. 

But  now  help  was  at  hand.  Two  or  three  rivermen  ap- 
peared at  the  edge  of  the  chute.  A  moment  later  old  man 
Reed  ran  up,  carrying  a  rope.  This,  after  some  difficulty, 
was  made  fast  to  the  bow  of  the  wanigan.  A  dozen  men 
ran  with  the  end  of  it  to  a  position  of  vantage  from  which 
they  might  be  able  to  pull  the  bow  away  from  the  sunken 
obstruction,  but  Orde,  appearing  above,  called  a  halt.  After 
consultation  with  Reed,  another  rope  was  brought  and  the 
end  of  it  tossed  down  to  the  shipwrecked  crew.  Orde  pointed 
to  the  stern  of  the  boat,  revolving  his  hands  in  pantomime 
to  show  that  the  wanigan  would  be  apt  to  upset  if  allowed 
to  get  side-on  when  freed.  A  short  rope  led  to  the  top  of 
the  dam  allowed  the  bow  to  be  lifted  free  of  the  obstruc- 
tion; a  cable  astern  prevented  the  current  from  throwing 
her  broadside  to  the  rush  of  waters ;  another  cable  from 


48  THE    RIVERMAN 

the  bow  led  her  in  the  way  she  should  go.  Ten  minutes 
later  she  was  pulled  ashore  out  of  the  eddy  tdow,  very 
much  water-logged,  and  manned  by  a  drenched  and  dis- 
gruntled crew. 

But  Orde  allowed  them  little  chance  for  lamentation. 

"  Hard  luck ! "  he  said  briefly.  "  Hope  you  haven't  lost 
much.  Now  get  a  move  on  you  and  bail  out.  You've  got 
to  get  over  the  shallows  while  this  head  is  on." 

"  That's  all  the  thanks  you  get,"  grumbled  Charlie  to 
himself  and  the  other  three  as  Orde  moved  away.  "  Work, 
slave,  get  up  in  the  night,  drownd  yourself " 

He  happily  discovered  that  the  pails  under  the  forward 
thwart  had  not  been  carried  away,  and  all  started  in  to 
bail.  It  was  a  back-breaking  job,  and  consumed  the  greater 
part  of  two  hours.  Even  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  wanigan, 
though  dry  of  loose  water,  floated  but  sluggishly. 

"  'Bout  two  ton  of  water  in  them  bed-rolls  and  turkeys," 
grumbled  Charlie.  "  Well,  get  at  it !  " 

Newmark  soon  discovered  that  the  progress  of  the  wani- 
gan was  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  a  side-show  by  the 
rivermen.  Its  appearance  was  signal  for  shouts  of  delighted 
and  ironic  encouragement;  its  tribulations — which  at  first, 
in  the  white-water,  were  many — the  occasion  for  unsympa- 
thetic and  unholy  joy.  Charlie  looked  on  all  spectators  as 
enemfes.  Part  of  the  time  he  merely  glowered.  Part  of 
the  time  he  tried  to  reply  in  kind.  To  his  intense  disgust, 
he  was  taken  seriously  in  neither  case. 

In  a  couple  of  hours'  run  the  wanigan  had  overtaken 
and  left  far  behind  the  rear  of  the  drive.  All  about  floated 
the  logs,  caroming  gently  one  against  the  other,  shifting 
and  changing  the  pattern  of  their  brown  against  the  blue 
of  the  water.  The  current  flowed  strongly  and  smoothly, 
but  without  obstruction.  Everything  went  well.  The  banks 
slipped  by  silently  and  mysteriously,  like  the  unrolling  of 
a  panorama — little  strips  of  marshland,  stretches  of  wood-- 


THE    RIVERMAN  49 

land  where  the  great  trees  leaned  out  over  the  river,  thickets 
of  overflowed  swampland  with  the  water  rising  and  drain- 
ing among  roots  in  a  strange  regularity  of  its  own.  The 
sun  shone  warm.  There  was  no  wind.  Newmark  wrung  out 
his  outer  garments,  and  basked  below  the  gunwale.  Zeke 
and  his  companion  pulled  spasmodically  on  the  sweeps. 
Charlie,  having  regained  his  equanimity  together  with  his 
old  brown  derby,  which  he  came  upon  floating  sodden  in 
an  eddy,  marcheu  up  and  down  the  broad  gunwale  with 
his  pike-pole,  thrusting  away  such  logs  as  threatened  in- 
terference. 

"  Well,"  said  he  at  last,  "  we  better  make  camp.  We'll 
be  down  in  the  jam  pretty  soon." 

The  cookees  abandoned  the  sweeps  in  favour  of  more 
pike-poles.  By  pushing  and  pulling  on  the  logs  floating 
about  them,  they  managed  to  work  the  wanigan  in  close 
to  the  bank.  Charlie,  a  coil  of  rope  in  his  hand,  surveyed 
the  prospects. 

"  We'll  stop  right  down  there  by  that  little  knoll,"  he 
announced. 

He  leaped  ashore,  made  a  turn  around  a  tree,  and  braced 
himself  to  snub  the  boat,  but  unfortunately  he  had  not 
taken  into  consideration  the  "  two  ton "  of  water  soaked 
up  by  the  cargo.  The  weight  of  the  craft  relentlessly 
dragged  him  forward.  In  vain  he  braced  and  struggled. 
The  end  of  the  rope  came  to  the  tree;  he  clung  for  a 
moment,  then  let  go,  and  ran  around  the  tree  to  catch  it 
before  it  should  slip  into  the  water. 

By  this  time  the  wanigan  had  caught  the  stronger  cur- 
rent at  the  bend  and  was  gathering  momentum.  Charlie 
tried  to  snub  at  a  sapling,  and  broke  the  sapling;  on  a 
stub,  and  uprooted  the  stub.  Down  the  banks  and  through 
the  brush  he  tore  at  the  end  of  his  rope,  clinging  desper- 
ately, trying  at  every  solid  tree  to  stop  the  career  of  his 
runaway,  but  in  every  instance  being  forced  by  the  danger 


50  THE   RIVERMAN 

of  jamming  his  hands  to  let  go.  Again  he  lost  his  derby. 
The  landscape  was  a  blur.  Dimly  he  made  out  the  howls 
of  laughter  as  the  outfit  passed  a  group  of  rivermen.  Then 
abruptly  a  ravine  yawned  before  him,  and  he  let  go  just 
in  time  to  save  himself  a  fall.  The  wanigan,  trailing  her 
rope,  drifted  away. 

Nor  did  she  stop  until  she  had  overtaken  the  jam.  There, 
her  momentum  reduced  by  the  closer  crowding  of  the  logs, 
she  slowed  down  enough  so  that  Newmark  and  the  cookees 
managed  to  work  her  to  the  bank  and  make  her  fast. 

That  evening,  after  the  wanigan's  crew  had  accomplished 
a  hard  afternoon's  work  pitching  camp  and  drying  blankets, 
the  first  of  the  rear  drifted  in  very  late  after  a  vain  search 
for  camp  farther  up  stream. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Charlie,"  growled  one,  "  it's  a  wonder 
you  wouldn't  run  through  to  Redding  and  be  done  with  it." 

Whereupon  Charlie,  who  had  been  preternaturally  calm 
all  the  afternoon,  uttered  a  shriek  of  rage,  and  with  a  carv- 
ing-knife chased  that  man  out  into  the  brush.  Nor  would 
he  be  appeased  to  the  point  of  getting  supper  until  Orde 
himself  had  intervened. 

"  Well,"  said  Orde  to  Newmark  later,  around  the  camp- 
fire,  "  how  does  river-driving  strike  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  extremely  interesting,"  replied  Newmark. 

"  Like  to  join  the  wanigan  crew  permanently  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  returned  Newmark  drily. 

"  Well,  stay  with  us  as  long  as  you're  having  a  good 
time,"  invited  Orde  heartily,  but  turning  away  from  his 
rather  uncommunicative  visitor. 

"  Thank  you,"  Newmark  acknowledged  this,  "  I  believe 
I  will." 

"  Well,  Tommy,"  called  Orde  across  the  fire  to  North, 
"I  reckon  we've  got  to  rustle  some  more  supplies.  That 
shipwreck  of  ours  to-day  mighty  near  cleaned  us  out  of 
some  things.  Lucky  Charlie  held  his  head  and  locked 


THE    RIVERMAN  51 

in  the  bedding  with  those  sweeps,  or  we'd  have  been 
strapped." 

"  I  didn't  do  it,"  grumbled  Charlie.  "  It  was  him." 

*'  Oh !  "  Orde  congratulated  Newmark.  "  Good  work ! 
I'm  tickled  to  death  you  belonged  to  that  crew." 

"  That  old  mossback  Reed  was  right  on  deck  with  his 
rope,"  remarked  Johnny  Simms.  "  That  was  pretty  decent 
of  him." 

"  Old  skunk !  "  growled  North.  "  He  lost  us  two  day? 
with  his  damn  nonsense.  You  let  him  off  too  easy,  Jack." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  poor  old  devil,"  replied  Orde  easily.  "  He 
means  well  enough.  That's  the  way  the  Lord  made  him, 
He  can't  help  how  he's  made." 


VI 

DURING  the  thirty-three  days  of  the  drive,  New- 
mark,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody,  stayed  with  the 
work.  Some  of  these  days  were  very  disagreeable. 
April  rains  are  cold  and  persistent — the  proverbs  as  to 
showers  were  made  for  another  latitude.  Drenched  gar- 
ments are  bad  enough  when  a  man  is  moving  about  and 
has  daylight;  but  when  night  falls,  and  the  work  is  over, 
he  likes  a  dry  place  and  a  change  with  which  to  comfort 
himself.  Dry  places  there  were  none.  Even  the  interior  of 
the  tents  became  sodden  by  continual  exits  and  entrances 
of  dripping  men,  while  dry  garments  speedily  dampened 
in  the  shif tings  of  camp  which,  in  the  broader  reaches  of 
the  lower  river,  took  place  nearly  every  day.  Men  worked 
in  soaked  garments,  slept  in  damp  blankets.  Charlie  cooked 
only  by  virtue  of  persistence.  The  rivermen  ate  standing 
up,  as  close  to  the  sputtering,  roaring  fires  as  they  could 
get.  Always  the  work  went  forward. 

But  there  were  other  times  when  a  golden  sun  rose  each 
morning  a  little  earlier  on  a  green  and  joyous  world.  The 
river  ran  blue.  Migratory  birds  fled  busily  northward — 
robins,  flute-voiced  blue-birds,  warblers  of  many  species, 
sparrows  of  different  kinds,  shore  birds  and  ducks,  the 
sweet-songed  thrushes.  Little  tepid  breezes  wandered  up  and 
down,  warm  in  contrast  to  the  faint  snow-chill  that  even 
yet  lingered  in  the  shadows.  Sounds  carried  clearly,  so  that 
the  shouts  and  banter  of  the  rivermen  were  plainly  audible 
up  the  reaches  of  the  river.  Ashore  moist  and  aggressive 
green  things  were  pushing  up  through  the  watery  earth 


THE    RIVERMAN  53 

from  which,  in  shade,  the  last  frost  had  not  yet  departed. 
At  camp  the  fires  roared  invitingly.  Charlie's  grub  was  hot 
and  grateful.  The  fir  beds  gave  dreamless  sleep. 

Newmark  followed  the  work  of  the  log-drive  with  great 
interest.  All  day  long  he  tramped  back  and  forth — on  jam 
one  day,  on  rear  the  next.  He  never  said  much,  but  watched 
keenly,  and  listened  to  the  men's  banter  both  on  the  work 
and  about  the  evening's  fire  as  though  he  enjoyed  it.  Grad- 
ually the  men  got  used  to  him,  and  ceased  to  treat  him 
as  an  outsider.  His  thin,  eager  face,  his  steel-blue,  inquiring 
eyes  behind  the  glasses,  his  gray  felt  hat,  his  lank,  tense 
figure  in  its  gray,  became  a  familiar  feature.  They  threw 
remarks  to  him,  to  which  he  replied  briefly  and  drily. 
When  anything  interesting  was  going  on,  somebody  told 
him  about  it.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  spot,  no  matter  how 
distant  it  might  be.  He  used  always  the  river  trail ;  he  never 
attempted  to  ride  the  logs. 

He  seemed  to  depend  most  on  observation,  for  he  rarely 
asked  any  questions.  What  few  queries  he  had  to  proffer, 
he  made  to  Orde  himself,  waiting  sometimes  until  evening 
to  interview  that  busy  and  good-natured  individual.  Then 
his  questions  were  direct  and  to  the  point.  They  related 
generally  to  the  advisability  of  something  he  had  seen  done ; 
only  rarely  did  they  ask  for  explanation  of  the  work  itself. 
That  Newmark  seemed  capable  of  puzzling  out  for  himself. 

The  drive,  as  has  been  said,  went  down  as  far  as  Red- 
ding in  thirty-three  days.  It  had  its  share  of  tribulation. 
The  men  worked  fourteen  and  sixteen  hours  at  times. 
Several  bad  jams  relieved  the  monotony.  Three  dams  had 
to  be  sluiced  through.  Problems  of  mechanics  arose  to  be 
solved  on  the  spot;  problems  that  an  older  civilisation 
would  have  attacked  deliberately  and  with  due  respect  for 
the  seriousness  of  the  situation  and  the  dignity  of  engineer- 
ing. Orde  solved  them  by  a  rough-and-ready  but  very  ef- 
fective rule  of  thumb.  He  built  and  abandoned  structures. 


54  THE   RIVERMAN 

which  would  have  furnished  opportunity  for  a  winter's  dis- 
cussion to  some  committees;  just  as,  earlier  in  the  work, 
the  loggers  had  built  through  a  rough  country  some  hun- 
dreds of  miles  of  road  better  than  railroad  grade,  solid  in 
foundation,  and  smooth  as  a  turnpike,  the  quarter  of  which 
would  have  occupied  the  average  county  board  of  super- 
visors for  five  years.  And  while  he  was  at  it,  Orde  kept 
his  men  busy  and  satisfied.  Your  white-water  birler  is  not 
an  easy  citizen  to  handle.  Yet  never  once  did  the  boss 
appear  hurried  or  flustered.  Always  he  wandered  about, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  chewing  a  twig,  his  round,  wind- 
reddened  face  puckered  humorously,  his  blue  eyes  twink- 
ling, his  square,  burly  form  lazily  relaxed.  He  seemed  to 
meet  his  men  almost  solely  on  the  plane  £>f  good-natured 
chaffing.  Yet  the  work  was  done,  and  done  efficiently,  and 
Orde  was  the  man  responsible. 

The  drive  of  which  Orde  had  charge  was  to  be  delivered 
at  the  booms  of  Morrison  and  Daly,  a  mile  or  so  above  the 
city  of  Redding.  Redding  was  a  thriving  place  of  about 
thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  situated  on  a  long  rapids  some 
forty  miles  from  Lake  Michigan.  The  water-power  devel- 
oped from  the  rapids  explained  Redding's  existence.  Most 
of  the  logs  floated  down  the  river  were  carried  through  to 
the  village  at  the  lake  coast,  where,  strung  up  the  river 
for  eight  or  ten  miles,  stood  a  dozen  or  so  big  saw-mills, 
with  concomitant  booms,  yards,  and  wharves.  Morrison  and 
Daly,  however,  had  built  a  saw  and  planing  mill  at  Red- 
ding, where  they  supplied  most  of  the  local  trade  and  that 
of  the  surrounding  country-side. 

The  drive,  then,  was  due  to  break  up  as  soon  as  the 
logs  should  be  safely  impounded. 

The  last  camp  was  made  some  six  or  eight  miles  above 
the  mill.  From  that  point  a  good  proportion  of  the  river- 
men,  eager  for  a  taste  of  the  town,  tramped  away  down 
the  road,  to  return  early  in  the  morning,  more  or  less 


THE    RIVERMAN  55 

drunk,  but  faithful  to  their  job.  One  or  two  did  not 
return. 

Among  the  revellers  was  the  cook,  Charlie,  commonly 
called  The  Doctor.  The  rivermen  early  worked  off  the 
effects  of  their  rather  wild  spree,  and  turned  up  at  noon 
chipper  as  larks.  Not  so  the  cook.  He  moped  about  dis- 
consolately all  day;  and  in  the  evening-,  after  his  work 
had  been  finished,  he  looked  so  much  like  a  chicken  with 
the  pip  that  Orde's  attention  was  attracted. 

"  Got  that  dark-brown  taste,  Charlie  ?  "  he  inquired  with 
mock  solicitude. 

The  cook  mournfully  shook  his  head. 

"  Large  head  ?  Let's  feel  your  pulse.  Stick  out  your 
tongue,  sonny." 

"  I  ain't  been  drinking,  I  tell  you !  "  growled  Charlie. 

"  Drinking !  "  expostulated  Orde,  horrified.  "  Of  course 
not !  I  hope  none  of  my  boys  ever  take  a  drink !  But  that 
lemon-pop  didn't  agree  with  your  stomach — now  did  it, 
Charlie?" 

"  I  tell  you  I  only  had  two  glasses  of  beer ! "  cried 
Charlie,  goaded,  "  and  I  can  prove  it  by  Johnny  Challan." 

Orde  turned  to  survey  the  pink-cheeked,  embarrassed 
young  boy  thus  designated. 

"  How  many  glasses  did  Johnny  Challan  have  ?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  He  didn't  drink  none  to  speak  of,"  spoke  up  the  boy. 

"Then  why  this  joyless  demeanour?"  begged  Orde. 

Charlie  grumbled,  fiercely  inarticulate ;  but  Johnny  Chal- 
lan interposed  with  a  chuckle  of  enjoyment. 

"  He  got  '  bunked.'  " 

"  Tell  us !  "  cried  Orde  delightedly. 

"  It  was  down  at  McNeill's  place,"  explained  Johnny 
Challan,  encouraged  by  the  interest  of  his  audience.  "  They 
was  a  couple  of  sports  there  who  throwed  out  three  cards 
on  the  table  and  bet  you  couldn't  pick  the  jack.  They 


56  THE   RIVERMAN 

showed  you  where  the  jack  was  before  they  throwed,  and 
it  surely  looked  like  a  picnic,  but  it  wasn't" 

"Three-card  monte,"  said  Newmark. 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Simms. 

"  About  fifty  dollars,"  replied  the  boy. 

Orde  turned  on  the  disgruntled  cook. 

"And  you  had  fifty  in  your  turkey,  camping  with  this 
outfit  of  hard  citizens ! "  he  cried.  "  You  ought  to  lose  it." 

Johnny  Challan  was  explaining  to  his  companions  ex- 
actly how  the  game  was  played. 

"  It's  a  case  of  keep  your  eye  on  the  card,  I  should  think," 
said  big  Tim  Nolan.  "  If  you  got  a  quick  enough  eye  to 
see  him  flip  the  card  around,  you  ought  to  be  able  to 
pick  her." 

"  That's  what  this  sport  said,"  agreed  Challan.  " '  Your 
eye  agin  my  hand,'  says  he." 

"  Well,  I'd  like  to  take  a  try  at  her,"  mused  Tim. 

But  at  this  point  Newmark  broke  into  the  discussion. 

"  Have  you  a  pack  of  cards  ?  "  he  asked  in  his  dry,  in- 
cisive manner. 

Somebody  rummaged  in  a  turkey  and  produced  the  re- 
mains of  an  old  deck. 

"  I  don't  believe  this  is  a  full  deck,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
think  they's  part  of  two  decks  in  it." 

"  I  only  want  three,"  assured  Newmark,  reaching  his 
hand  for  the  pack. 

The  men  crowded  around  close,  those  in  front  squatting, 
those  behind  looking  over  their  shoulders. 

Newmark  cleared  a  cracker-box  of  drying  socks  and  drew 
it  to  him. 

"  These  three  are  the  cards,"  he  said,  speaking  rapidly. 
"  There  is  the  jack  of  hearts.  I  pass  my  hands — so.  Pick 
the  jack,  one  of  you,"  he  challenged,  leaning  back  from 
the  cracker-box  on  which  lay  the  three  cards,  back  up. 
"Aiy  of  you,"  he  urged.  "  You,  North." 


THE   RIVERMAN  57 

Thus  directly  singled  out,  the  foreman  leaned  forward 
and  rather  hesitatingly  laid  a  blunt  forefinger  on  one  of 
the  bits  of  pasteboard. 

Without  a  word,  Newmark  turned  it  over.  It  was  the 
ten  of  spades. 

"  Let  me  try,"  interposed  Tim  Nolan,  pressing  his  big 
shoulders  forward.  "  I  bet  I  know  which  it  was  that  time ; 
and  I  bet  I  can  pick  her  next  time." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  bet  I "  shrugged  Newmark.  "  And  that's 
where  the  card-sharps  get  you  fellows  every  time.  Well, 
pick  it,"  said  he,  again  deftly  flipping  the  cards. 

Nolan,  who  had  watched  keenly,  indicated  one  without 
hesitation.  Again  it  proved  to  be  the  ten  of  spades. 

"  Anybody  else  ambitious  ?  "  inquired  Newmark. 

Everybody  was  ambitious ;  and  the  young  man,  with  in- 
exhaustible patience,  threw  out  the  cards,  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  twitching  sardonically  at  each  wrong  guess. 

At  length  he  called  a  halt. 

"  By  this  time  I'd  have  had  all  your  money,"  he  pointed 
out.  "  Now,  I'll  pick  the  jack." 

For  the  last  time  he  made  his  swift  passes  and  distributed 
the  cards.  Then  quite  calmly,  without  disturbing  the  three 
on  the  cracker-box,  he  held  before  their  eyes  the  jack  of 
hearts. 

An  exclamation  broke  from  the  interested  group.  Tim 
Nolan,  who  was  the  nearest,  leaned  forward  and  turned 
over  the  three  on  the  board.  They  were  the  eight  of  dia- 
monds and  two  tens  of  spades. 

"  That's  how  the  thing  is  worked  nine  times  out  of  ten," 
announced  Newmark.  "  Once  in  a  while  you'll  run  against 
a  straight  game,  but  not  often." 

"  But  you  showed  us  the  jack  every  time  before  you 
throwed  them ! "  puzzled  Johnny  Simms. 

"  Sleight  of  hand,"  explained  Newmark.  "  The  simplest 
kind  of  palming." 


58  THE   RIVERMAN 

"Well,  Charb'e,"  said  big  Tim,  "looks  to  me  as  if 
you  had  just  aboil,  as  much  chance  as  a  snowball  in 

hell." 

"  Where'd  you  get  onto  doing  all  that,  Newmark?  "  in- 
quired North.  "  You  ain't  a  tin  horn  yourself?  " 

Newmark  laughed  briefly.  "  Not  I,"  said  he.  "  I  learned 
a  lot  of  those  tricks  from  a  travelling  magician  in  col- 
lege." 

During  this  demonstration  Orde  had  sat  well  in  the 
background,  his  chin  propped  on  his  hand,  watching  in- 
tently all  that  was  going  on.  After  the  comment  and  ex- 
clamations following  the  exposure  of  the  method  had  sub- 
sided, he  spoke. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  how  game  are  you  to  get  Charlie's 
money  back — and  then  some?" 

"  Try  us,"  returned  big  Tim. 

"This  game's  at  McNeill's,  and  McNeill's  is  a  tough 
hole,"  warned  Orde.  "  Maybe  everything  will  go  peaceful, 
and  maybe  not.  And  you  boys  that  go  with  me  have  got 
to  keep  sober.  There  isn't  going  to  be  any  row  unless  I 
say  so,  and  I'm  not  taking  any  contract  to  handle  a  lot  of 
drunken  river-hogs  as  well  as  go  against  a  game." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Nolan,  "  I'm  with  you." 

The  thirty  or  so  men  of  the  rear  crew  then  in  camp 
signified  their  intention  to  stay  by  the  procession. 

"  You  can't  make  those  sharps  disgorge,"  counselled 
Newmark.  "  At  the  first  look  of  trouble  they  will  light 
out.  They  have  it  all  fixed.  Force  won't  do  you  much 
good — and  may  get  some  of  you  shot." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  use  force,"  denied  Orde.  "  I'm  just 
going  to  play  their  game.  But  I  bet  /  can  make  it  go. 
Only  I  sort  of  want  the  moral  support  of  the  boys." 

"  I  tell  you,  you  can't  win ! "  cried  Newmark  disgust- 
edly. "  It's  a  brace  game  pure  and  simple." 

"  I  don't  know  about  it's  being  pure,"  replied  Orde 


THE    RIVERMAN  59 

drolly,  "  but  it's  simple  enough,  if  you  know  how  to  make 
the  wheels  go  'round.  How  is  it,  boys — will  you  back  my 
play?" 

And  such  was  their  confidence  that,  in  face  of  New- 
mark's  demonstration,  they  said  they  would. 


VII 

ATER  the  men  had  been  paid  off,  perhaps  a  dozen 
of  them  hung  around  the  yards  awaiting-  evening 
and  the  rendezvous  named  by  Orde.  The  rest 
drifted  away  full  of  good  intentions,  but  did  not  show 
up  again.  Orde  himself  was  busy  up  to  the  last  moment, 
but  finally  stamped  out  of  the  office  just  as  the  boarding- 
house  bell  rang  for  supper.  He  surveyed  what  remained 
of  his  old  crew  and  grinned. 

"  Well,  boys,  ready  for  trouble  ? "  he  greeted  them. 
"  Come  on." 

They  set  out  up  the  long  reach  of  Water  Street,  their 
steel  caulks  biting  deep  into  the  pitted  board-walks. 

For  nearly  a  mile  the  street  was  flanked  solely  by  lumber- 
yards, small  mills,  and  factories.  Then  came  a  strip  of 
unimproved  land,  followed  immediately  by  the  wooden, 
ramshackle  structures  of  Hell's  Half-Mile. 

In  the  old  days  every  town  of  any  size  had  its  Hell's 
Half-Mile,  or  the  equivalent.  Saginaw  boasted  of  its  Cata- 
combs; Muskegon,  Alpena,  Port  Huron,  Ludington,  had 
their  "  Pens,"  "  White  Rows,"  "  River  Streets,"  "  Kilyub- 
bin,"  and  so  forth.  They  supported  row  upon  row  of  sa- 
loons, alike  stuffy  and  squalid;  gambling  hells  of  all  sorts; 
refreshment  "  parlours,"  where  drinks  were  served  by 
dozens  of  "pretty  waiter-girls,"  and  huge  dance-halls. 

The  proprietors  of  these  places  were  a  bold  and  un- 
scrupulous lot.  In  their  everyday  business  they  had  to  deal 
with  the  most  dangerous  rough-and-tumble  fighters  this 
country  has  ever  known;  with  men  bubbling  over  with  the 

60 


THE    RIVERMAN  61 

joy  of  life,  ready  for  quarrel  if  quarrel  also  spelled  fun, 
drinking  deep,  and  heavy-handed  and  fearless  in  their  cups. 
But  each  of  these  rivermen  had  two  or  three  hundred 
dollars  to  "  blow  "  as  soon  as  possible.  The  pickings  were 
good.  Men  got  rich  very  quickly  at  this  business.  And  there 
existed  this  great  advantage  in  favour  of  the  dive-keeper: 
nobody  cared  what  happened  to  a  riverman.  You  could 
pound  him  over  the  head  with  a  lead  pipe,  or  drug  his 
drink,  or  choke  him  to  insensibility,  or  rob  him  and  throw 
him  out  into  the  street,  or  even  drop  him  tidily  through 
a  trap-door  into  the  river  flowing  conveniently  beneath. 
Nobody  bothered — unless,  of  course,  the  affair  was  so 
bungled  as  to  become  public.  The  police  knew  enough 
to  stay  away  when  the  drive  hit  town.  They  would  have 
been  annihilated  if  they  had  not.  The  only  fly  in  the 
divekeeper's  ointment  was  that  the  riverman  would  fight 
back. 

And  fight  back  he  did,  until  from  one  end  of  his  street 
to  the  other  he  had  left  the  battered  evidences  of  his  skill 
as  a  warrior.  His  constant  heavy  lifting  made  him  as  hard 
as  nails  and  as  strong  as  a  horse;  the  continual  demand 
on  his  agility  in  riding  the  logs  kept  him  active  and  pre- 
vented him  from  becoming  muscle-bound ;  in  his  wild  heart 
was  not  the  least  trace  of  fear  of  anything  that  walked, 
crawled,  or  flew.  And  he  was  as  tireless  as  machinery,  and 
apparently  as  indifferent  to  punishment  as  a  man  cast  in 
iron. 

Add  to  this  a  happy  and  complete  disregard  of  conse- 
quences— to  himself  or  others — of  anything  he  did,  and,  in 
his  own  words,  he  was  a  "  hard  man  to  nick." 

As  yet  the  season  was  too  early  for  much  joy  along  Hell's 
Half-Mile.  Orde's  little  crew,  and  the  forty  or  fifty  men 
of  the  drive  that  had  preceded  him,  constituted  the  rank 
and  file  at  that  moment  in  town.  A  little  later,  when  all 
the  drives  on  the  river  should  be  in,  and  those  of  its  tribu- 


62  THE   RIVERMAN 

taries,  and  the  men  still  lingering  at  the  woods  camps,  at 
least  five  hundred  woods-weary  men  would  be  turned  loose. 
Then  Hell's  Half-Mile  would  awaken  in  earnest  from  its 
hibernation.  The  lights  would  blaze  from  day  to  day.  From 
its  opened  windows  would  blare  the  music,  the  cries  of 
men  and  women,  the  shuffle  of  feet,  the  noise  of  fighting, 
the  shrieks  of  wild  laughter,  curses  deep  and  frank  and 
unashamed,  songs  broken  and  interrupted.  Crews  of  men, 
arms  locked,  would  surge  up  and  down  the  narrow  side- 
walks, their  little  feit  hats  cocked  one  side,  their  heads 
back,  their  fearless  eyes  challenging  the  devil  and  all  his 
works — and  getting  the  challenge  accepted.  Girls  would  flit 
across  the  lit  windows  like  shadows  before  flames,  or  stand 
in  the  doorways  hailing  the  men  jovially  by  name.  And 
every  few  moments,  above  the  roar  of  this  wild  inferno, 
would  sound  the  sudden  crash  and  the  dull  blows  of  com- 
bat. Only,  never  was  heard  the  bark  of  the  pistol.  The 
fighting  was  fierce,  and  it  included  kicking  with  the  sharp 
steel  boot-caulks,  biting  and  gouging;  but  it  barred  knives 
and  firearms.  And  when  Hell's  Half-Mile  was  thus  in  full 
eruption,  the  citizens  of  Redding  stayed  away  from  Water 
Street  after  dark.  "  Drive's  in,"  said  they,  and  had  business 
elsewhere.  And  the  next  group  of  rivermen,  hurrying 
toward  the  fun,  broke  into  an  eager  dog-trot.  "  Taking  the 
old  town  apart  to-night,"  they  told  each  other.  "  Let's  get 
in  the  game." 

To-night,  however,  the  street  was  comparatively  quiet. 
The  saloons  were  of  modified  illumination.  In  many  of 
them  men  stood  drinking,  but  in  a  sociable  rather  than  a 
hilarious  mood.  Old  friends  of  the  two  drives  were  getting 
together  for  a  friendly  glass.  The  barkeepers  were  list- 
lessly wiping  the  bars.  The  "  pretty  waiter-girls  "  gossiped 
with  each  other  and  yawned  behind  their  hands.  From  sev- 
eral doorways  Orde's  little  compact  group  was  accosted 
by  the  burly  saloonkeepers. 


THE    RIVERMAN  63 

"Hullo,  boys!"  said  they  invariably,  "glad  to  see  you 
back.  Come  in  and  have  a  drink  on  me." 

Well  these  men  knew  that  one  free  drink  would  mean 
a  dozen  paid  for.  But  the  rivermen  merely  shook  their 
heads. 

"  Huh !  "  sneered  one  of  the  girls.  "  Them's  no  river- 
jacks  !  Them's  just  off  the  hay  trail,  I  bet !  " 

But  even  this  time-honoured  and  generally  effective 
taunt  was  ignored. 

In  the  middle  of  the  third  block  Orde  wheeled  sharp 
to  the  left  down  a  dark  and  dangerous-looking  alley.  An- 
other turn  to  the  right  brought  him  into  a  very  narrow 
street.  Facing  this  street  stood  a  three-story  wooden  struc- 
ture, into  which  led  a  high-arched  entrance  up  a  broad 
half-flight  of  wooden  steps.  This  was  McNeill's. 

As  Orde  and  his  men  turned  into  the  narrow  street,  a 
figure  detached  itself  from  the  shadow  and  approached. 
Orde  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  You  here,  Newmark  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Yes,"  replied  that  young  man.  "  I  want  to  see  this 
through." 

"  With  those  clothes  ?  "  marvelled  Orde.  "  It's  a  wonder 
some  of  these  thugs  haven't  held  you  up  long  ago!  I'll 
get  Johnny  here  to  go  back  with  you  to  the  main  street." 

"  No,"  argued  Newmark,  "  I  want  to  go  in  with  you." 

"  It's  dangerous,"  explained  Orde.  "  You're  likely  to  get 
slugged." 

"  I  can  stand  it  if  you  can,"  returned  Newmark. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Orde  grimly.  "  However,  it's  your 
funeral.  Come  on,  if  you  want  to." 

McNeill's  lower  story  was  given  over  entirely  to  drink- 
ing. A  bar  ran  down  all  one  side  of  the  room.  Dozens  of 
little  tables  occupied  the  floor.  "  Pretty  waiter-girls  "  were 
prepared  to  serve  drinks  at  these  latter — and  to  share  in 
them,  at  a  commission.  The  second  floor  was  a  theatre, 


64  THE   RIVERMAN 

and  the  third  a  dance-hall.  Beneath  the  building  were  still 
viler  depths.  From  this  basement  the  riverman  and  the 
shanty  boy  generally  graduated  penniless,  and  perhaps  un- 
conscious, to  the  street.  Now,  your  lumber- jack  did  not 
customarily  arrive  at  this  stage  without  more  or  less  lively 
doings  en  route ;  therefore  McNeill's  maintained  a  force  of 
fighters.  They  were  burly,  sodden  men,  in  striking  contrast 
to  the  clean-cut,  clear-eyed  rivermen,  but  strong  in  their 
experience  and  their  discipline.  To  be  sure,  they  might  not 
last  quite  as  long  as  their  antagonists  could — a  whisky 
training  is  not  conducive  to  long  wind — but  they  always 
lasted  plenty  long  enough.  Sand-bags  and  brass  knuckles 
helped  some,  ruthless  singleness  of  purpose  counted,  and 
team  work  finished  the  job.  At  times  the  storm  rose  high, 
but  up  to  now  McNeill  had  always  ridden  it. 

Orde  and  his  men  entered  the  lower  hall,  as  though 
sauntering  in  without  definite  aim.  Perhaps  a  score  of  men 
were  in  the  room.  Two  tables  of  cards  were  under  way — 
with  a  great  deal  of  noisy  card-slapping  that  proclaimed 
the  game  merely  friendly.  Eight  or  ten  other  men  wandered 
about  idly,  chaffing  loudly  with  the  girls,  pausing  to  over- 
look the  card  games,  glancing  with  purposeless  curiosity 
at  the  professional  gamblers  sitting  quietly  behind  their 
various  lay-outs.  It  was  a  dull  evening. 

Orde  wandered  about  with  the  rest,  a  wide,  good-natured 
smile  on  his  face. 

"Start  your  little  ball  to  rolling  for  that,"  he  in- 
structed the  roulette  man,  tossing  down  a  bill.  "  Dropped 
again ! "  he  lamented  humorously.  "  Can't  seem  to  have 
any  luck." 

He  drifted  on  to  the  crap  game. 

"Throw  us  the  little  bones,  pardner,"  he  said.  "I'll  go 
you  a  five  on  it." 

He  lost  here,  and  so  found  himself  at  the  table  presided 
over  by  the  three-card  monte  men.  The  rest  of  his  party, 


THE    RIVERMAN  65 

who  had  according  to  instructions  scattered  about  the  place, 
now  began  quietly  to  gravitate  in  his  direction. 

"  What  kind  of  a  lay-out  is  this  ?  "  inquired  Orde. 

The  dealer  held  up  the  three  cards  face  out. 

"  What  kind  of  an  eye  have  you  got,  bub?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  A  pretty  fair  eye.  Why  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  pick  out  the  jack  when  I 
throw  them  out  like  this  ?  "  asked  the  dealer. 

"Sure!  She's  that  one." 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  gambler  with  a  pretence  of  dis- 
gust, "  damn  if  you  didn't !  I  bet  you  five  dollars  you  can't 
do  it  again." 

"  Take  you !  "  replied  Orde.  "  Put  up  your  five." 

Again  Orde  was  permitted  to  pick  the  jack. 

"  You've  got  the  best  eye  that's  been  in  this  place  since 
I  got  here,"  claimed  the  dealer  admiringly.  "  Here,  Den- 
nis," said  he  to  his  partner,  "  try  if  you  can  fool  this 
fellow." 

Dennis  obligingly  took  the  cards,  threw  them,  and  lost. 
By  this  time  the  men,  augmented  by  the  idlers  not  busy 
with  the  card  games,  had  drawn  close. 

"  Sail  into  'em,  bub,"  encouraged  one. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  gamblers,  expert  in  the  reading 
of  a  man's  mood  and  intentions,  sensed  the  fact  that  Orde 
might  be  led  to  plunge,  or  whether,  more  simply,  they  were 
using  him  as  a  capper  to  draw  the  crowd  into  their  game, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  but  twice  more  they  bungled 
the  throw  and  permitted  him  to  win. 

Newmark  plucked  him  at  the  sleeve. 

"  You're  twenty  dollars  ahead,"  he  muttered.  "  Quit  it ! 
I  never  saw  anybody  beat  this  game  that  much  before." 

Orde  merely  shrugged  him  off  with  an  appearance  of 
growing  excitement,  while  an  habitue  of  the  place,  prob- 
ably one  of  the  hired  fighters,  growled  into  Newmark's 
ear. 


66  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Shut  up,  you  damn  dude !  "  warned  this  man.  "  Ketp 
out  of  what  ain't  none  of  your  business." 

"  What  limit  do  you  put  on  this  game,  anyway?  "  Orde 
leaned  forward,  his  eyes  alight. 

The  two  gamblers  spoke  swiftly  apart. 

"  How  much  do  you  want  to  bet  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  Would  you  stand  for  five  hundred  dollars  ? "  asked 
Orde. 

A  dead  silence  fell  on  the  group.  Plainly  could  be  heard 
the  men's  quickened  breathing.  The  shouts  and  noise  from 
the  card  parties  blundered  through  the  stillness.  Some  one 
tiptoed  across  and  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  nearest 
player.  A  moment  later  the  chairs  at  the  two  tables  scraped 
back.  One  of  them  fell  violently  to  the  floor.  Their  occu- 
pants joined  the  tense  group  about  the  monte  game.  All 
the  girls  drew  near.  Only  behind  the  bar  the  white-aproned 
bartenders  wiped  their  glasses  with  apparent  imperturba- 
bility, their  eyes,  however,  on  their  brass  knuckles  hanging 
just  beneath  the  counter,  their  ears  pricked  up  for  the 
riot  call. 

The  gambler  pretended  to  deliberate,  his  cool,  shifty  eyes 
running  over  the  group  before  him.  A  small  door  imme- 
diately behind  him  swung  slowly  ajar  an  inch  or  so. 

"  Got  the  money  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Have  you  ?  "  countered  Orde. 

Apparently  satisfied,  the  man  nodded. 

"  I'll  go  you,  bub,  if  I  lose,"  said  he.  "  Lay  out  your 
money." 

Orde  counted  out  nine  fifty-dollar  bills  and  five  tens. 
Probably  no  one  in  the  group  of  men  standing  about  had 
realised  quite  how  much  money  five  hundred  dollars  meant 
until  they  saw  it  thus  tallied  out  before  them. 

"All  right,"  said  the  gambler,  taking  up  the  cards. 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  Orde.  "  Where's  yours  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  the  gambler  reassured  him.  "  I'm 


THE    RIVERMAN  67 

with  the  house.  I  guess  McNeill's  credit  is  good,"  he 
laughed. 

"  That  may  all  be,"  insisted  Orde,  "  but  I'm  putting  up 
my  good  money,  and  I  expect  to  see  good  money  put  up 
in  return." 

They  wrangled  over  this  point  for  some  time,  but  Orde 
was  obstinate.  Finally  the  gamblers  yielded.  A  canvass  of 
the  drawer,  helped  out  by  the  bar  and  the  other  games, 
made  up  the  sum.  It  bulked  large  on  the  table  beside  Orde's 
higher  denominations. 

The  interested  audience  now  consisted  of  the  dozen  men 
comprised  by  Orde's  friends ;  nearly  twice  as  many  stran- 
gers, evidently  rivermen;  eight  hangers-on  of  the  joint, 
probably  fighters  and  "  bouncers  " ;  half  a  dozen  profes- 
sional gamblers,  and  several  waitresses.  The  four  barkeep- 
ers still  held  their  positions.  Of  these,  the  rivermen  were 
scattered  loosely  back  of  Orde,  although  Orde's  own  friends 
had  by  now  gathered  compactly  enough  at  his  shoulder. 
The  mercenaries  and  gamblers  had  divided,  and  flanked 
the  table  at  either  side.  Newmark,  a  growing  wonder  and 
disgust  creeping  into  his  usually  unexpressive  face,  recog- 
nised the  strategic  advantage  of  this  arrangement.  In  case 
of  difficulty,  a  determined  push  would  separate  the  river- 
men  from  the  gamblers  long  enough  for  the  latter  to  dis- 
appear quietly  through  the  small  door  at  the  back. 

"  Satisfied  ?  "  inquired  the  gambler  briefly. 

"  Let  her  flicker,"  replied  Orde  with  equal  brevity. 

A  gasp  of  anticipation  went  up.  Quite  coolly  the  gamble* 
made  his  passes.  With  equal  coolness  and  not  the  slightest 
hesitation,  Orde  planted  his  great  red  fist  on  one  of  tht 
cards. 

"  That  is  the  jack,"  he  announced,  looking  the  gambler 
in  the  eye. 

"Oh,  is  it?"  sneered  the  dealer.  "Well,  t'jro  ic  over 
and  let's  see," 


68  THE   RIVERMAN 

"No!"  roared  Orde.  "You  turn  over  the  other  two!" 

A  low  oath  broke  from  the  gambler,  and  his  face  con- 
torted in  a  spasm.  The  barkeepers  slid  out  from  behind  the 
bar.  For  a  moment  the  situation  was  tense  and  threatening. 
The  dealer  with  a  sweeping  glance  again  searched  the 
faces  of  those  before  him.  In  that  moment,  probably,  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  an  open  scandal  must  be  avoided. 
Force  and  broken  bones,  even  murder,  might  be  all  right 
enough  under  colour  of  right.  If  Orde  had  turned  up  for 
a  jack  the  card  on  which  he  now  held  his  fist,  and  then  had 
attempted  to  prove  cheating,  a  cry  of  robbery  and  a  lively 
fight  would  have  given  opportunity  for  making  way  with 
the  stakes.  But  McNeill's  could  not  afford  to  be  shown  up 
before  thirty  interested  rivermen  as  running  an  open-and- 
shut  brace-game.  However,  the  gambler  made  a  desperate 
try  at  what  he  must  have  known  was  a  very  forlorn  hope. 

"  That  isn't  the  way  this  game  is  played,"  said  he.  "  Show 
up  your  jack." 

"  It's  the  way  I  play  it,"  replied  Orde  sternly.  "  These 
gentlemen  heard  the  bet."  He  reached  over  and  dexterously 
flipped  over  the  other  two  cards.  "  You  see,  neither  of 
these  is  the  jack;  this  must  be." 

"You  win,"  assented  the  gambler,  after  a  pause. 

Orde,  his  fist  still  on  the  third  card,  began  pocketing 
the  stakes  with  the  other  hand.  The  gambler  reached, 
palm  up,  across  the  table. 

"  Give  me  the  other  card,"  said  he. 

Orde  picked  it  up,  laughing.  For  a  moment  he  seemed 
to  hesitate,  holding  the  bit  of  pasteboard  tantalisingly  out- 
stretched, as  though  he  were  going  to  turn  also  this  one 
face  up.  Then,  quite  deliberately  he  looked  to  right  and 
to  left  where  the  fighters  awaited  their  signal,  laughed 
again,  and  handed  the  card  to  the  gambler. 

At  once  pandemonium  broke  loose.  The  rivermen  of 
Orde's  party  fairly  shouted  with  joy  over  the  unexpected 


THE   RIVERMAN  69 

trick;  the  employees  of  the  resort  whispered  apart;  the 
gambler  explained,  low-voiced  and  angry,  his  reasons  for 
not  putting  up  a  fight  for  so  rich  a  stake. 

"All  to  the  bar!"  yelled  Orde. 

They  made  a  rush,  and  lined  up  and  ordered  their  drinks. 
Orde  poured  his  on  the  floor  and  took  the  glass  belonging 
to  the  man  next  him. 

"  Get  them  to  give  you  another,  Tim,"  said  he.  "  No 
knock-out  drops,  if  I  can  help  it." 

The  men  drank,  and  some  one  ordered  another  round. 

"  Tim,"  said  Orde,  low-voiced,  "  get  the  crowd  together 
and  we'll  pull  out.  I've  a  thousand  dollars  on  me,  and  they'll 
sand-bag  me  sure  if  I  go  alone.  And  let's  get  out  right 
off." 

Ten  minutes  later  they  all  stood  safely  on  the  lighted 
thoroughfare  of  Water  Street. 

"  Good-night,  boys,"  said  Orde.  "  Go  easy,  and  show  up 
at  the  booms  Monday." 

He  turned  up  the  street  toward  the  main  part  of  the 
town.  Newmark  joined  him. 

"  I'll  walk  a  little  ways  with  you,"  he  explained.  "  And 
I  say,  Orde,  I  want  to  apologise  to  you.  'Most  of  the 
evening  I've  been  thinking  you  the  worst  fool  I  ever  saw, 
but  you  can  take  care  of  yourself  at  every  stage  of  the 
game.  The  trick  was  good,  but  your  taking  the  other  fel- 
low's drink  beat  it." 


VIII 

ORDE  heard  no  more  of  Newmark — and  hardl)1 
thought  of  him — until  over  two  weeks  later. 
In  the  meantime  the  riverman,  assuming  the 
more  conventional  garments  of  civilisation,  lived  with  his 
parents  in  the  old  Orde  homestead  at  the  edge  of  town. 
This  was  a  rather  pretentious  two-story  brick  structure, 
in  the  old  solid,  square  architecture,  surrounded  by  a  small 
orchard,  some  hickories,  and  a  garden.  Orde's  father  had 
built  it  when  he  arrived  in  the  pioneer  country  from  New 
England  forty  years  before.  At  that  time  it  was  considered 
well  out  in  the  country.  Since  then  the  town  had  crept  to 
it,  so  that  the  row  of  grand  old  maples  in  front  shaded 
a  stone-guttered  street.  A  little  patch  of  corn  opposite,  and 
many  still  vacant  lots  above,  placed  it,  however,  as  about 
the  present  limit  of  growth. 

Jack  Orde  was  the  youngest  and  most  energetic  of  a 
large  family  that  had  long  since  scattered  to  diverse  cities 
and  industries.  He  and  Grandpa  and  Grandma  Orde  dwelt 
now  in  the  big,  echoing,  old-fashioned  house  alone,  save 
for  the  one  girl  who  called  herself  the  "  help  "  rather  than 
the  servant.  Grandpa  Orde,  now  above  sixty,  was  tall, 
straight,  slender.  His  hair  was  quite  white,  and  worn  ?. 
little  long.  His  features  were  finely  chiselled  and  aquiline. 
From  them  looked  a  pair  of  piercing,  young,  black  eyes, 
In  his  time,  Grandpa  Orde  had  been  a  mighty  breaker 
of  the  wilderness;  but  his  time  had  passed,  and  with  the 
advent  of  a  more  intensive  civilisation  he  had  fallen  upon 
somewhat  straitened  ways.  Grandma  Orde,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  a  very  small,  spry  old  lady,  with  a  small  face, 

70 


THE    RIVERMAN  71 

a  small  figure,  small  hands  and  feet.  She  dressed  in  the 
then  usual  cap  and  black  silk  of  old  ladies.  Half  her  time 
she  spent  at  her  housekeeping,  which  she  loved,  jingling 
about  from  cellar  to  attic  store-room,  seeing  that  Amanda, 
the  "  help,"  had  everything  in  order.  The  other  half  she 
sat  in  a  wooden  "  Dutch "  rocking-chair  by  a  window 
overlooking  the  garden.  Her  silk-shod  feet  rested  neatly 
side  by  side  on  a  carpet-covered  hassock,  her  back  against 
a  gay  tapestried  cushion.  Near  her  purred  big  Jim,  a  mal- 
tese  rumoured  to  weigh  fifteen  pounds.  Above  her  twit- 
tered a  canary. 

And  the  interior  of  the  house  itself  was  in  keeping.  The 
low  ceilings,  the  slight  irregularities  of  structure  peculiar 
to  the  rather  rule-of-thumb  methods  of  the  earlier  builders, 
the  deep  window  embrasures  due  to  the  thickness  of  the 
walls,  the  unexpected  passages  leading  to  unsuspected 
rooms,  and  the  fact  that  many  of  these  apartments  were 
approached  by  a  step  or  so  up  or  a  step  or  so  down — 
these  lent  to  it  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  atmosphere  en- 
hanced further  by  the  steel  engravings,  the  antique  fur- 
nishings, the  many-paned  windows,  and  all  the  belongings 
of  old  people  who  have  passed  from  a  previous  generation 
untouched  by  modern  ideas. 

To  this  house  and  these  people  Orde  came  direct  from 
the  greatness  of  the  wilderness  and  the  ferocity  of  Hell's 
Half-Mile.  Such  contrasts  were  possible  even  ten  or  fifteen 
years  ago.  The  untamed  country  lay  at  the  doors  of  the 
most  modern  civilisation. 

Newmark,  reappearing  one  Sunday  afternoon  at  the  end 
of  the  two  weeks,  was  apparently  bothered.  He  examined 
the  Orde  place  for  some  moments;  walked  on  beyond  it, 
finding  nothing  there,  he  returned,  and  after  some  hesi- 
tation turned  in  up  the  tar  sidewalk  and  pulled  at  the  old- 
fashioned  wire  bell-pull.  Grandma  Orde  herself  answered 
the  door. 


72  THE   RIVERMAN 

At  sight  of  her  fine  features,  her  dainty  lace  cap  and 
mitts,  and  the  stiffness  of  her  rustling  black  silks,  New- 
mark  took  off  his  gray  felt  hat. 

"Good-afternoon,"  said  he.  "Will  you  kindly  tell  me 
where  Mr.  Orde  lives?" 

"  This  is  Mr.  Ode's,"  replied  the  little  old  lady. 

"  Pardon  me,"  persisted  Newmark,  "  I  am  looking  for 
Mr.  Jack  Orde,  and  I  was  directed  here.  I  am  sorry  to 
have  troubled  you." 

"  Mr.  Jack  Orde  lives  here,"  returned  Grandma  Orde. 
"  He  is  my  son.  Would  you  like  to  see  him  ? " 

"  If  you  please,"  assented  Newmark  gravely,  his  thin, 
shrewd  face  masking  itself  with  its  usual  expression  of 
quizzical  cynicism. 

"  Step  this  way,  please,  and  I'll  call  him,"  requested  his 
interlocutor,  standing  aside  from  the  doorway. 

Newmark  entered  the  cool,  dusky  interior,  and  was 
shown  to  the  left  into  a  dim,  long  room.  He  perched  on 
a  mahogany  chair,  and  had  time  to  notice  the  bookcases 
with  the  white  owl  atop,  the  old  piano  with  the  yellowing 
keys,  the  haircloth  sofa  and  chairs,  the  steel  engravings, 
and  the  two  oil  portraits,  when  Orde's  large  figure  dark- 
ened the  door. 

For  an  instant  the  young  man,  who  must  just  have  come 
in  from  the  outside  sunshine,  blinked  into  the  dimness. 
Newmark,  too,  blinked  back,  although  he  could  by  this 
time  see  perfectly  well. 

Newmark  had  known  Orde  only  as  a  riverman.  Like 
most  Easterners,  then  and  now,  he  was  unable  to  imagine 
a  man  in  rough  clothes  as  being  anything  but  essentially  a 
rough  man.  The  figure  he  saw  before  him  was  decently 
and  correctly  dressed  in  what  was  then  the  proper  Sunday 
costume.  His  big  figure  set  off  the  cloth  to  advantage,  and 
even  his  wind-reddened  face  seemed  toned  down  and  re- 
fined by  the  change  in  costume  and  surroundings. 


THE   K1VERMAN  73 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Mr.  Newmark !  "  cried  Orde  in  his  hearty 
way,  and  holding  out  his  hand.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
Where  you  been  ?  Come  on  out  of  there.  This  is  the  '  com- 
pany place.' "  Without  awaiting  a  reply,  he  led  the  way  into 
the  narrow  hall,  whence  the  two  entered  another,  brighter 
room,  in  which  Grandma  Orde  sat,  the  canary  singing 
above  her  head. 

"  Mother,"  said  Orde,  "  this  is  Mr.  Newmark,  who  was 
with  us  on  the  drive  this  spring." 

Grandma  Orde  laid  her  gold-bowed  glasses  and  her  black 
leather  Bible  on  the  stand  beside  her. 

"  Mr.  Newmark  and  I  spoke  at  the  door,"  said  she,  ex- 
tending her  frail  hand  with  dignity.  "  If  you  were  on  the 
drive,  Mr.  Newmark,  you  must  have  been  one  of  the  High 
Privates  in  this  dreadful  war  we  all  read  about." 

Newmark  laughed  and  made  some  appropriate  reply.  A 
few  moments  later,  at  Orde's  suggestion,  the  two  passed 
out  a  side  door  and  back  into  the  remains  of  the  old 
orchard. 

"  It's  pretty  nice  here  under  the  trees,"  said  Orde.  "  Sit 
down  and  light  up.  Where  you  been  for  the  last  couple  of 
weeks  ?  " 

"  I  caught  Johnson's  drive  and  went  on  down  river  with 
him  to  the  lake,"  replied  Newmark,  thrusting  the  offered 
cigar  in  one  corner  of  his  mouth  and  shaking  his  head 
at  Orde's  proffer  of  a  light. 

"  You  must  like  camp  life." 

"  I  do  not  like  it  at  all,"  negatived  Newmark  emphat- 
ically, "  but  the  drive  interested  me.  It  interested  me  so 
much  that  I've  come  back  to  talk  to  you  about  it.'* 

"  Fire  ahead,"  acquiesced  Orde. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  few  questions  about  yourself, 
and  you  can  answer  them  or  not,  just  as  you  please." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  bashful  about  my  career,"  laughed  Orde. 

"  HOW  old  are  you  ?  "  inquired  Newmark  abruptly. 


74  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Thirty." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  doing  that  sort  of  thing — 
driving,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Off  and  on,  about  six  years." 

"  Why  did  you  go  into  that  particular  sort  of  thing  ? " 

Orde  selected  a  twig  and  carefully  threw  it  at  a  lump 
in  the  turf. 

"  Because  there's  nothing  ahead  of  shovelling  but  dirt," 
he  replied  with  a  quaint  grin. 

"  I  see,"  said  Newmark,  after  a  pause.  "  Then  you  think 
there's  more  future  to  that  sort  of  thing  than  the  sort 
of  thing  the  rest  of  your  friends  go  in  for — law,  and 
wholesale  groceries,  and  banking  and  the  rest  of  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  for  me,"  replied  Orde  simply. 

"  Yet  you're  merely  river-driving  on  a  salary  at  thirty." 

Orde  flushed  slowly,  and  shifted  his  position. 

"  Exactly  so — Mr.  District  Attorney,"  he  said  drily. 

Newmark  started  from  his  absorption  in  his  questioning 
and  shifted  his  unlighted  cigar. 

"  Does  sound  like  it,"  he  admitted ;  "  but  I'm  not  asking 
all  this  out  of  idle  curiosity.  I've  got  a  scheme  in  my  head 
that  I  think  may  work  out  big  for  us  both." 

"  Well,"  assented  Orde  reservedly,  "  in  that  case — I'm 
foreman  on  this  drive  because  my  outfit  went  kerplunk 
two  years  ago,  and  I'm  making  a  fresh  go  at  it." 

"  Failed  ?  "  inquired  Newmark. 

"  Partner  skedaddled,"  replied  Orde.  "  Now,  if  you're 
satisfied  with  my  family  history,  suppose  you  tell  me  what 
the  devil  you're  driving  at." 

He  was  plainly  restive  under  the  cross-examination  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Newmark,  abruptly  changing  the  sub- 
ject, "  you  know  that  rapids  up  river  flanked  by  shallows, 
where  the  logs  are  always  going  aground  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  replied  Orde,  still  grim. 


THE    RIVERMAN  75 

"  Well,  why  wouldn't  it  help  to  put  a  string  of  piers 
down  both  sides,  with  booms  between  them  to  hold  the 
logs  in  the  deeper  water  ?  " 

"  It  would,"  said  Orde. 

"  Why  isn't  it  done,  then  ?  " 

"  Who  would  do  it  ?  "  countered  Orde,  leaning  back  more 
easily  in  the  interest  of  this  new  discussion.  "  If  Daly  did 
it,  for  instance,  then  all  the  rest  of  the  drivers  would  get 
the  advantage  of  it  for  nothing." 

"  Get  them  to  pay  their  share." 

Orde  grinned.  "  I'd  like  to  see  you  get  any  three  men 
to  agree  to  anything  on  this  river." 

"  And  a  sort  of  dam  would  help  at  that  Spruce  Rapids  ?  " 

"  Sure  1  If  you  improved  the  river  for  driving,  she'd  be 
easier  to  drive.  That  goes  without  saying." 

"How  many  firms  drive  logs  on  this  stream?" 

"  Ten,"  replied  Orde,  without  hesitation. 

"  How  many  men  do  they  employ  ?  " 

"Driving?"  asked  Orde. 

"  Driving." 

"  About  five  hundred ;  a  few  more  or  less." 

"  Now  suppose,"  Newmark  leaned  forward  impressively, 
"  suppose  a  firm  should  be  organised  to  drive  all  the  logs 
on  the  river.  Suppose  it  improved  the  river  with  necessary 
piers,  dams,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  so  that  the  driving  would 
be  easier.  Couldn't  it  drive  with  less  than  five  hundred 
men,  and  couldn't  it  save  money  on  the  cost  of  driving?  " 

"  It  might,"  agreed  Orde. 

"  You  know  the  conditions  here.  If  such  a  firm  should 
be  organised  and  should  offer  to  drive  the  logs  for  these 
ten  firms  at  so  much  a  thousand,  do  you  suppose  it  would 
get  the  business  ?  " 

"  It  would  depend  on  the  driving  firm,"  said  Orde.  "  You 
see,  mill  men  have  got  to  have  their  logs.  They  can't 
afford  to  take  chances.  It  wouldn't  pay." 


76  THE   RIVEKMAN 

"Then  that's  all  right,"  agreed  Newmark,  with  a  gleam 
of  satisfaction  across  his  thin  face.  "  Would  you  form  a 
partnership  with  me  having  such  an  object  in  view?" 

Orde  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  with  genuine 
amusement. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  realise  the  situation,"  said  he.  "  We'd 
have  to  have  a  few  little  things  like  distributing  booms, 
and  tugs,  and  a  lot  of  tools  and  supplies  and  works  of 
various  kinds." 

"  Well,  we'd  get  them." 

It  was  now  Orde's  turn  to  ask  questions. 

"  How  much  are  you  worth  ?  "  he  inquired  bluntly. 

"  About  twenty  thousand  dollars,"  replied  Newmark. 

"  Well,  if  I  raise  very  much  more  than  twenty  thousand 
tents,  I'm  lucky  just  now." 

"  How  much  capital  would  we  have  to  have  ? "  asked 
Newmark. 

Orde  thought  for  several  minutes,  twisting  the  petal  of 
an  old  apple-blossom  between  his  strong,  blunt  fingers. 

"  Somewhere  near  seventy-five  thousand  dollars,"  he  esti- 
mated at  last. 

"  That's  easy,"  cried  Newmark.  "  We'll  make  a  stock 
company — say  a  hundred  thousand  shares.  We'll  keep  just 
enough  between  us  to  control  the  company — say  fifty-one 
thousand.  I'll  put  in  my  pile,  and  you  can  pay  for  yours 
out  of  the  earnings  of  the  company." 

"  That  doesn't  sound  fair,"  objected  Orde. 

"You  pay  interest,"  explained  Newmark.  "Then  we'll 
sell  the  rest  of  the  stock  to  raise  the  rest  of  the  money." 

"  If  we  can,"  interjected  Orde. 

"  I  think  we  can,"  asserted  Newmark. 

Orde  fell  into  a  brown  study,  occasionally  throwing  a 
twig  or  a  particle  of  earth  at  the  offending  lump  in  the 
turf.  Overhead  the  migratory  warblers  balanced  right-side 
up  or  up-side  down,  searching  busily  among  the  new  leaves, 


THE   RIVERMAN  77 

uttering  their  simple  calls.  The  air  was  warm  and  soft 
and  still,  the  sky  bright.  Fat  hens  clucked  among  the 
grasses.  A  feel  of  Sunday  was  in  the  air. 

"  I  must  have  something  to  live  on,"  said  he  thoughtfully 
at  last. 

"  So  must  I,"  said  Newmark.  "  We'll  have  to  pay  our- 
selves salaries,  of  course,  but  the  smaller  the  better  at  first. 
You'll  have  to  take  charge  of  the  men  and  the  work  and 
all  the  rest  of  it — I  don't  know  anything  about  that.  I'll 
attend  to  the  incorporating  and  the  routine,  and  I'll  try  to 
place  the  stock.  You'll  have  to  see,  first  of  all,  whether  you 
can  get  contracts  from  the  logging  firms  to  drive  the  logs." 
"  How  can  I  tell  what  to  charge  them  ?  " 
"  We'll  have  to  figure  that  very  closely.  You  know  where 
these  different  drives  would  start  from,  and  how  long  each 
of  them  would  take  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  the  river  pretty  well." 
"  Well,  then  we'll  figure  how  many  days'  driving  there 
is  for  each,  and  how  many  men  there  are,  and  what  it  costs 
for  wages,  grub,  tools — we'll  just  have  to  figure  as  near  as 
we  can  to  the  actual  cost,  and  then  add  a  margin  for  profit 
and  for  interest  on  our  investment." 

"  It  might  work  out  all  right,"  admitted  Orde. 
"  I'm    confident   it   would,"    asserted    Newmark.    "  And 
there'd  be  no  harm  figuring  it  all  out,  would  there  ?  " 
"  No,"  agreed  Orde,  "  that  would  be  fun  all  right." 
At  this  moment  Amanda  a^oeared  at  the  back  door  and 
waved  an  apron. 

"  Mr.  Jack !  "  she  called.  "  Come  m  to  dinner." 
Newmark  looked  puzzled,  and,  as  he  arose,  glanced  sur- 
reptitiously at  his  watch.  Orde  seemed  to  take  the  summons 
as  one  to  be  expected,  however.  In  fact,  the  strange  hour 
was  the  usual  Sunday  custom  in  the  Redding  of  that  day, 
and  had  to  do  with  the  late-church  freedom  of  Amanda 
and  her  like. 


78  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Come  in  and  eat  with  us,"  invited  Orde.  "  We'd  be 
glad  to  have  you." 

But  Newmark  declined. 

"  Come  up  to-morrow  night,  then,  at  half-past  six,  for 
supper,"  Orde  urged  him.  "  We  can  figure  on  these  things 
a  little.  I'm  in  Daly's  all  day,  and  hardly  have  time  except 
evenings." 

To  this  Newmark  assented.  Orde  walked  with  him  down 
the  deep-shaded  driveway  with  the  clipped  privet  hedge  on 
one  side,  to  the  iron  gate  that  swung  open  when  one  drove 
over  a  projecting  lever.  There  he  said  good-bye. 

A  moment  later  he  entered  the  long  dining-room,  where 
Grandpa  and  Grandma  Orde  were  already  seated.  An  old- 
fashioned  service  of  smooth  silver  and  ivory-handled  steel 
knives  gave  distinction  to  the  plain  white  linen.  A  tea-pot 
smothered  in  a  "  cosey  "  stood  at  Grandma  Orde's  right. 
A  sirloin  roast  on  a  noble  platter  awaited  Grandpa  Orde's 
knife. 

Orde  dropped  into  his  place  with  satisfaction. 

"  Shut  up,  Cheep ! "  he  remarked  to  a  frantic  canary 
hanging  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Your  friend  seems  a  nice-appearing  young  man,"  said 
Grandma  Orde.  "  Wouldn't  he  stay  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  I  asked  him,"  replied  Orde,  "  but  he  couldn't.  He  and 
I  have  a  scheme  for  making  our  everlasting  fortunes." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  grandma. 

Orde  dropped  his  napkin  into  his  lap  with  a  comical 
chuckle  of  dismay. 

"Blest  if  I  have  the  slightest  idea,  mother,"  he  said. 
"  Newmark  joined  us  on  the  drive.  Said  he  was  a  lawyer, 
and  was  out  in  the  woods  for  his  health.  He's  been  with 
us,  studying  and  watching  the  work,  ever  since." 


IX 

1  THINK  I'll  go  see  Jane  Hubbard  this  evening,"  Orde 
remarked  to  his  mother,  as  he  arose  from  the  table. 
This  was  his  method  of  announcing  that  he  would  not 
be  home  for  supper. 

Jane  Hubbard  lived  in  a  low  one-story  house  of  blue 
granite,  situated  amid  a  grove  of  oaks  at  the  top  of  the 
hill.  She  was  .a  kindly  girl,  whose  parents  gave  her  free 
swing,  and  whose  house,  in  consequence,  was  popular  with 
the  younger  people.  Every  Sunday  she  offered  to  all  who 
came  a  "  Sunday-night  lunch,"  which  consisted  of  cold 
meats,  cold  salad,  bread,  butter,  cottage  cheese,  jam,  pre- 
serves, and  the  like,  warmed  by  a  cup  of  excellent  tea. 
These  refreshments  were  served  by  the  guests  themselves. 
It  did  not  much  matter  how  few  or  how  many  came. 

On  the  Sunday  evening  in  question  Orde  found  about 
the  usual  crowd  gathered.  Jane  herself,  tall,  deliberate  in 
movement  and  in  speech,  kindly  and  thoughtful,  talked  in 
a  corner  with  Ernest  Colburn,  who  was  just  out  of  college, 
and  who  worked  in  a  bank.  Mignonne  Smith,  a  plump, 
rather  pretty  little  body  with  a  tremendous  aureole  of  hair 
like  spun  golden  fire,  was  trying  to  balance  a  croquet-ball 
on  the  end  of  a  ruler.  The  ball  regularly  fell  off.  Three 
young  men,  standing  in  attentive  attitudes,  thereupon  dove 
forward  in  an  attempt  to  catch  it  before  it  should  hit  the 
floor — which  it  generally  did  with  a  loud  thump.  A  col- 
lapsed chair  of  slender  lines  stacked  against  the  wall  at- 
tested previous  acrobatics.  This  much  Orde,  standing  in  the 
.doorway,  looked  upon  quite  as  the  usual  thing.  Only  he 

79 


8o  THE   RIVERMAN 

missed  the  Incubus.  Searching  the  room  with  his  eyes,  he 
at  length  discovered  that  incoherent,  desiccated,  but  per- 
sistent youth  vis-a-vis  with  a  stranger.  Orde  made  out  the 
white  of  her  gown  in  the  shadows,  the  willowy  outline 
of  her  small  and  slender  figure,  and  the  gracious  forward 
bend  of  her  head. 

The  company  present  caught  sight  of  Orde  standing  in 
the  doorway,  and  suspended  occupations  to  shout  at  him 
joyfully.  He  was  evidently  a  favourite.  The  strange  girl 
in  the  corner  turned  to  him  a  white,  long  face,  of  which 
he  could  see  only  the  outline  and  the  redness  of  the  lips 
where  the  lamplight  reached  them.  She  leaned  slightly  for- 
ward and  the  lips  parted.  Orde's  muscular  figure,  standing 
square  and  uncompromising  in  the  doorway,  the  out-of-door 
freshness  of  his  complexion,  the  steadiness  of  his  eyes 
laughing  back  a  greeting,  had  evidently  attracted  her.  Or 
perhaps  anything  was  a  relief  from  the  Incubus. 

"  So  you're  back  at  last,  are  you,  Jack  ?  "  drawled  Jane 
in  her  lazy,  good-natured  way.  "  Come  and  meet  Miss 
Bishop.  Carroll,  I  want  to  present  Mr.  Orde." 

Orde  bowed  ceremoniously  into  the  penumbra  cast  by  the 
lamp's  broad  shade.  The  girl  inclined  gracefully  her  small 
head  with  the  glossy  hair.  The  Incubus,  his  thin  hands 
clasped  on  his  knee,  his  sallow  face  twisted  in  one  of  its 
customary  wry  smiles,  held  to  the  edge  of  his  chair  with 
characteristic  pertinacity. 

"  Well,  Walter,"  Orde  addressed  him  genially,  "  are  you 
having  a  good  time  ?  " 

"  Yes-indeed ! "  replied  the  Incubus  as  though  it  were 
one  word. 

His  chair  was  planted  squarely  to  exclude  all  others. 
Orde  surveyed  the  situation  with  good-humour. 

"  Going  to  keep  the  other  fellow  from  getting  a  chance, 
I  see." 

"  Yes-indeed ! "  replied  the  Incubus. 


THE    RIVERMAN  81 

Orde  bent  over,  and  with  great  ease  lifted  Incubus, 
chair,  and  all,  and  set  him  facing  Mignonne  Smith  and 
the  croquet-ball. 

"  Here,  Mignonne,"  said  he,  "  I've  brought  you  another 
assistant." 

He  returned  to  the  lamp,  to  find  the  girl,  her  dark  eyes 
alight  with  amusement,  watching  him  intently.  She  held 
the  tip  of  a  closed  fan  against  her  lips,  which  brought  her 
head  slightly  forward  in  an  attitude  as  though  she  listened. 
Somehow  there  was  about  her  an  air  of  poise,  of  absolute 
balanced  repose  quite  different  from  Jane's  rather  awkwarcj 
statics,  and  in  direct  contrast  to  Mignonne's  dynamics. 

"  Walter  is  a  very  bright  man  in  his  own  line,"  said 
Orde,  swinging  forward  a  chair,  "but  he  mustn't  be  al- 
lowed any  monopolies." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  want  him  so  summarily  removed  ?  " 
the  girl  asked  him,  without  changing  either  her  graceful 
attitude  of  suspended  motion  or  the  intentness  of  her  gaze. 

"  Well,"  argued  Orde,  "  I  got  him  to  say  all  he  ever 
says  to  any  girl — '  Yes-indeed ! ' — so  you  couldn't  have  any 
more  conversation  from  him.  If  you  want  to  look  at  him, 
why,  there  he  is  in  plain  sight.  Besides,  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  myself." 

"  Do  you  always  get  what  you  want  ?  "  inquired  the  girl. 

Orde  laughed. 

"  Any  one  can  get  anything  he  wants,  if  only  he  wants  it 
bad  enough,"  he  asserted. 

The  girl  pondered  this  for  a  moment,  and  finally  lowered 
and  opened  her  fan,  and  threw  back  her  head  in  a  more 
relaxed  attitude. 

"  Some  people,"  she  amended.  "  However,  I  forgive  you. 
I  will  even  flatter  you  by  saying  I  am  glad  you  came. 
You  look  to  have  reached  the  age  of  discretion.  I  venture 
to  say  that  these  boys'  idea  of  a  lively  evening  is  to  throw 
bread  about  the  table." 


82  THE   RIVERMAN 

Orde  flushed  a  little.  The  last  time  he  had  supped  at 
Jane  Hubbard's,  that  was  exactly  what  they  did  do. 

"  They  are  young,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  and  you  and  I 
are  very  old  and  wise.  But  having  a  noisy,  good  time  isn't 
such  a  great  crime — or  is  it  where  you  came  from  ?  " 

The  girl  leaned  forward,  a  sparkle  of  interest  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Are  you  and  I  going  to  fight  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  That  depends  on  you,"  returned  Orde  squarely,  but 
•with  perfect  good-humour. 

They  eyed  each  other  a  moment.  Then  the  girl  closed 
her  fan,  and  leaned  forward  to  touch  him  on  the  arm 
with  it. 

"  You  are  quite  right  not  to  allow  me  to  say  mean  things 
about  your  friends,  and  I  am  a  nasty  little  snip/* 

Orde  bowed  with  sudden  gravity. 

"  And  they  do  throw  bread,"  said  he. 

They  both  laughed.  She  leaned  back  with  a  movement 
of  satisfaction,  seeming  to  sink  into  the  shadows. 

"  Now,  tell  me ;  what  do  you  do  ?  " 

"What  do  I  do?"  asked  Orde,  puzzled. 

"  Yes.  Everybody  does  something  out  West  here.  It's  a 
disgrace  not  to  do  something,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  business !  I'm  a  river-driver  just  now." 

"  A  river-driver  ?  "  she  repeated,  once  more  leaning  for- 
ward. "  Why,  I've  just  been  hearing  a  great  deal  about 
you." 

"That  so?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  from  Mrs.  Baggs." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Orde.  "  Then  you  know  what  a  drunken, 
swearing,  worthless  lot  of  bums  and  toughs  we  are,  don't 
you?" 

For  the  first  time,  in  some  subtle  way  she  broke  the  poise 
of  her  attitude. 

"  There  is  Hell's  Half-Mile,"  she  reminded  him. 


THE    RIVERMAN  83 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Orde  bitterly,  "there's  Hell's  Half-Mile! 
Whose  fault  is  that  ?  My  rivermen's  ?  My  boys  ?  Look  here ! 
I  suppose  you  couldn't  understand  it,  if  you  tried  a  month ; 
but  suppose  you  were  working  out  in  the  woods  nine  months 
of  the  year,  up  early  in  the  morning  and  in  late  at  night 
Suppose  you  slept  in  rough  blankets,  on  the  ground  or  in 
bunks,  ate  rough  food,  never  saw  a  woman  or  a  book, 
undertook  work  to  scare  your  city  men  up  a  tree  and  into 
a  hole  too  easy,  risked  your  life  a  dozen  times  a  week 
in  a  tangle  of  logs,  with  the  big  river  roaring  behind  just 
waiting  to  swallow  you ;  saw  nothing  but  woods  and  river, 
were  cold  and  hungry  and  wet,  and  so  tired  you  couldn't 
wiggle,  until  you  got  to  feeling  like  the  thing  was  never 
going  to  end,  and  until  you  got  sick  of  it  way  through 
in  spite  of  the  excitement  and  danger.  And  then  suppose 
you  hit  town,  where  there  were  all  the  things  you  hadn't 
had — and  the  first  thing  you  struck  was  Hell's  Half-Mile. 
Say!  you've  seen  water  behind  a  jam,  haven't  you?  Water- 
power's  a  good  thing  in  a  mill  course,  where  it  has  wheels 
to  turn;  but  behind  a  jam  it  just  rips  things — oh,  what's 
the  use  talking!  A  girl  doesn't  know  what  it  means.  She 
couldn't  understand." 

He  broke  off  with  an  impatient  gesture.  She  was  looking 
at  him  intently,  her  lips  again  half-parted. 

"  I  think  I  begin  to  understand  a  little,"  said  she  softly. 
She  smiled  to  herself.  "  But  they  are  a  hard  and  heartless 
class  in  spite  of  all  their  energy  and  courage,  aren't  they  ?  " 
she  drew  him  out. 

"  Hard  and  heartless ! "  exploded  Orde.  "  There's  no 
kinder  lot  of  men  on  earth,  let  me  tell  you.  Why,  there 
isn't  a  man  on  that  river  who  doesn't  chip  in  five  or  ten 
dollars  when  a  man  is  hurt  or  killed ;  and  that  means  three 
or  four  days'  hard  work  for  him.  And  he  may  not  know 
or  like  the  injured  man  at  all!  Why " 

"  What's  all  the  excitement  ? "  drawled  Jane  Hubbard 


04  THE    KIVERMAN 

behind  them.  "  Can't  you  make  it  a  to-be-continued-in-our- 
next?  We're  'most  starved." 

"  Yes-indeed !  "  chimed  in  the  Incubus. 

The  company  trooped  out  to  the  dining-room  where  the 
table,  spread  with  all  the  good  things,  awaited  them. 

"  Ernest,  you  light  the  candles,"  drawled  Jane,  drifting 
slowly  along  the  table  with  her  eye  on  the  arrangements, 
"  and  some  of  you  boys  go  get  the  butter  and  the  milk- 
pitcher  from  the  ice-box." 

To  Orde's  relief,  no  one  threw  any  bread,  although  the 
whole-hearted  fun  grew  boisterous  enough  before  the  close 
of  the  meal.  Miss  Bishop  sat  directly  across  from  him.  He 
had  small  chance  of  conversation  with  her  in  the  hubbub 
that  raged,  but  he  gained  full  leisure  to  examine  her  more 
closely  in  the  fuller  illumination.  Throughout,  her  note  was 
of  fineness.  Her  hands,  as  he  had  already  noticed,  were 
long,  the  fingers  tapering;  her  wrists  were  finely  moulded, 
but  slender,  and  running  without  abrupt  swelling  of  muscles 
into  the  long  lines  of  her  forearm ;  her  figure  was  rounded, 
but  built  on  the  curves  of  slenderness;  her  piled,  glossy 
hair  was  so  fine  that  though  it  was  full  of  wonderful  soft 
shadows  denied  coarser  tresses,  its  mass  hardly  did  justice 
to  its  abundance.  Her  face,  again,  was  long  and  oval,  with 
a  peculiar  transparence  to  the  skin  and  a  peculiar  faint, 
healthy  circulation  of  the  blood  well  below  the  surface, 
which  relieved  her  complexion  of  pallor,  but  did  not  give 
her  a  colour.  The  lips,  on  the  contrary,  were  satin  red,  and 
Orde  was  mildly  surprised,  after  his  recent  talk,  to  find  them 
sensitively  moulded,  and  with  a  quaint,  child-like  quirk  at 
the  corners.  Her  eyes  were  rather  contemplative,  and  so 
black  as  to  resemble  spots. 

In  spite  of  her  half-scornful  references  to  "  bread-throw- 
ing," she  joined  with  evident  pleasure  in  the  badinage  and 
more  practical  fun  which  struck  the  note  of  the  supper. 
Only  Orde  thought  to  discern  even  in  her  more  boisterous 


THE    RIVERMAN  85 

movements  a  graceful,  courteous  restraint,  to  catch  in  the 
bend  of  her  head  a  dainty  concession  to  the  joy  of  the 
moment,  to  hear  in  the  tones  of  her  laughter  a  reservation 
of  herself,  which  nevertheless  was  not  at  all  a  reservation, 
against  the  others. 

After  the  meal  was  finished,  each  had  his  candle  to  blow 
out,  and  then  all  returned  to  the  parlour,  leaving  the  debris 
for  the  later  attention  of  the  "  hired  help." 

Orde  with  determination  made  his  way  to  Miss  Bishop's 
side.  She  smiled  at  him. 

"  You  see,  I  am  a  hypocrite  as  well  as  a  mean  little  snip," 
said  she.  "  I  threw  a  little  bread  myself." 

"Threw  bread?"  repeated  Orde.  "I  didn't  see  you." 

"  The  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese,"  she  mocked  him, 
"and  there  are  countries  where  men's  heads  do  grow  be- 
neath their  shoulders."  She  moved  gracefully  away  toward 
Jane  Hubbard.  "  Do  you  Western  '  business  men  '  never  deal 
in  figures  of  speech  as  well  as  figures  of  the  other  sort?  " 
she  wafted  back  to  him  over  her  shoulder. 

"  I  was  very  stupid,"  acknowledged  Orde,  following 
her. 

She  stopped  and  faced  him  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
smiling  quizzically. 

"Well?"  she  challenged. 

"Well,  what?"  asked  Orde,  puzzled. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  wanted  to  ask  me  something." 

"Why?" 

"  Your  following  me,"  she  explained,  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  smiling.  "  I  had  turned  away " 

"  I  just  wanted  to  talk  to  you,"  said  Orde. 

"  And  you  always  get  what  you  want,"  she  repeated. 
"  Well  ?  "  she  conceded,  with  a  shrug  of  mock  resignation. 
But  the  four  other  men  here  cut  in  with  a  demand. 

"  Music !  "  they  clamoured.  "  We  want  music !  " 

With  a  nod,  Miss  Bishop  turned  to  the  piano,  sweeping 


86  THE    RIVERMAN 

aside  her  white  draperies  as  she  sat.  She  struck  a  few  soft 
chords,  and  then,  her  long  hands  wandering  idly  and 
softly  up  and  down  the  keys,  she  smiled  at  them  over 
her  shoulder. 

"What  shall  it  be?"  she  inquired. 

Some  one  thrust  an  open  song-book  on  the  rack  in  front 
of  her.  The  others  gathered  close  about,  leaning  forward 
to  see. 

Song  followed  song,  at  first  quickly,  then  at  longer  in- 
tervals. At  last  the  members  of  the  chorus  dropped  away 
one  by  one  to  occupations  of  their  own.  The  girl  still  sat 
at  the  piano,  her  head  thrown  back  idly,  her  hands  wan- 
dering softly  in  and  out  of  melodies  and  modulations. 
Watching  her,  Orde  finally  saw  only  the  shimmer  of  her 
white  figure,  and  the  white  outline  of  her  head  and  throat. 
All  the  rest  of  the  room  was  gray  from  the  concentration 
of  his  gaze.  At  last  her  hands  fell  in  her  lap.  She  sat  look- 
ing straight  ahead  of  her. 

Orde  at  once  arose  and  came  to  her. 

"  That  was  a  wonderfully  quaint  and  beautiful  thing," 
said  he.  "  What  was  it  ?  " 

She  turned  to  him,  and  he  saw  that  the  mocking  had 
gone  from  her  eyes  and  mouth,  leaving  them  quite  simple, 
like  a  child's. 

"Did  you  like  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Orde.  He  hesitated  and  stammered  awk- 
wardly. "  It  was  so  still  and  soothing,  it  made  me  think 
of  the  river  sometimes  about  dusk.  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  anything.  I  was  improvising." 

"You  made  it  up  yourself?" 

"  It  was  myself,  I  suppose.  I  love  to  build  myself  a  gar- 
den, and  wander  on  until  I  lose  myself  in  it.  I'm  glad 
there  was  a  river  in  the  garden — a  nice,  still,  twilight 
river." 

She  flashed  up  at  him,  her  head  sidewise. 


THE    RIVERMAN  87 

"  There  isn't  always."  She  struck  a  crashing  discord  on 
the  piano. 

Every  one  looked  up  at  the  sudden  noise  of  it. 

"  Oh,  don't  stop !  "  they  cried  in  chorus,  as  though  each 
had  been  listening  intently. 

The  girl  laughed  up  at  Orde  in  amusement.  Somehow 
this  flash  of  an  especial  understanding  between  them  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  others  sent  a  warm  glow  to  his  heart. 

"  I  do  wish  you  had  your  harp  here,"  said  Jane  Hub- 
bard,  coming  indolently  forward.  "  You  just  ought  to  hear 
her  play  the  harp,"  she  told  the  rest.  "  It's  just  the  best 
thing  you  ever  did  hear ! " 

At  this  moment  the  outside  door  opened  to  admit  Mr, 
and  Mrs.  Hubbard,  who  had,  according  to  their  usual  Sun- 
day custom,  been  spending  the  evening  with  a  neighbour, 
This  was  the  signal  for  departure.  The  company  began  to 
break  up. 

Orde  pushed  his  broad  shoulders  in  to  screen  Carroll 
Bishop  from  the  others. 

"  Are  you  staying  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  opened  her  eyes  wide  at  his  brusqu3ness. 

"  I'm  visiting  Jane,"  she  replied  at  length,  with  an  af- 
fectation of  demureness. 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  here  long  ? "  was  Orde's  next 
question. 

"  About  a  month." 

"  I  am  coming  to  see  you,"  announced  Orde.  "  Good- 
night." 

He  took  her  hand,  dropped  it,  and  followed  the  others 
into  the  hall,  leaving  her  standing  by  the  lamp.  She  watched 
him  until  the  outer  door  had  closed  behind  him.  Not  once 
did  he  look  back.  Jane  Hubbard,  returning  after  a  moment 
from  the  hall,  found  her  at  the  piano  again,  her  head 
slightly  one  side,  playing  with  painful  and  accurate  exact- 
ness a  simple  one-finger  melody. 


88  THE   RIVERMAN 

Orde  walked  home  down  the  hill  in  company  with  the 
Incubus.  Neither  had  anything  to  say;  Orde  because  he 
was  absorbed  in  thought,  the  Incubus  because  nothing  oc- 
curred to  draw  from  him  his  one  remark.  Their  feet  clipped 
sharply  against  the  tar  walks,  or  rang  more  hollow  on 
the  boards.  Overhead  the  stars  twinkled  through  the  still- 
bare  branches  of  the  trees.  With  few  exceptions  the  houses 
were  dark.  People  "  retired  "  early  in  Redding.  An  occa- 
sional hall  light  burned  dimly,  awaiting  some  one's  return. 
At  the  gate  of  the  Orde  place,  Orde  roused  himself  to 
say  good-night.  He  let  himself  into  the  dim-lighted  hall, 
hung  up  his  hat,  and  turned  out  the  gas.  For  some  time 
he  stood  in  the  dark,  quite  motionless;  then,  with  the  ac- 
curacy of  long  habitude,  he  walked  confidently  to  the  nar- 
row stairs  and  ascended  them.  Subconsciously  he  avoided 
the  creaking  step,  but  outside  his  mother's  door  he  stopped, 
arrested  by  a  greeting  from  within. 

"That  you,  Jack?"  queried  Grandma  Orde. 

For  answer  Orde  pushed  open  the  door,  which  stood 
an  inch  or  so  ajar,  and  entered.  A  dim  light  from  a  dis- 
tant street-lamp,  filtered  through  the  branches  of  a  tree, 
flickered  against  the  ceiling.  By  its  aid  he  made  out  the 
great  square  bed,  and  divined  the  tiny  figure  of  his  mother. 
He  seated  himself  sidewise  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

"  Go  to  Jane's  ? "  queried  grandma  in  a  low  voice,  to 
avoid  awakening  grandpa,  who  slept  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Orde,  in  the  same  tone. 

"Who  was  there?" 

"  Oh,  about  the  usual  crowd." 

He  fell  into  an  abstracted  silence,  which  endured  for 
several  minutes. 

"  Mother,"  said  he  abruptly,  at  last,  "  I've  met  the  girl 
I  want  for  my  wife." 

Grandma  Orde  sat  up  in  bed. 

'Who  is  she?"  she  demanded. 


THE    RIVERMAN  89 

"  Her  name  is  Carroll  Bishop,"  said  Orde,  "  and  she's 
visiting  Jane  Hubbard." 

"  Yes,  but  w ho  is  she  ?  "  insisted  Grandma  Orde.  "  Where 
is  she  from  ?  " 

Orde  stared  at  her  in  the  dim  light. 

"  Why,  mother,"  he  repeated  for  the  second  time  that 
day,  "blest  if  I  know  that!" 


X 

ORDE  was  up  and  out  at  six  o'clock  the  following 
morning.  By  eight  he  had  reported  for  work  at 
Daly's  mill,  where,  with  the  assistance  of  a  portion 
of  the  river  crew,  he  was  occupied  in  sorting  the  logs  in 
the  booms.  Not  until  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  did  the 
whistle  blow  for  the  shut-down.  Then  he  hastened  home, 
to  find  that  Newmark  had  preceded  him  by  some  few  mo- 
ments and  was  engaged  in  conversation  with  Grandma 
Orde.  The  young  man  was  talking  easily,  though  rather 
precisely  and  with  brevity.  He  nodded  to  Orde  and  finished 
his  remark. 

After  supper  Orde  led  the  way  up  two  flights  of  narrow 
stairs  to  his  own  room.  This  was  among  the  gables,  a 
chamber  of  strangely  diversified  ceiling,  which  slanted  here 
and  there  according  to  the  demands  of  the  roof  outside. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I've  made  up  my  mind  to-day  to  go 
in  with  you.  It  may  not  work  out,  but  it's  a  good  chance, 
and  I  want  to  get  in  something  that  looks  like  money.  I 
don't  know  who  you  are,  nor  how  much  of  a  business 
man  you  are  or  what  your  experience  is,  but  I'll  risk  it." 

"  I'm  putting  in  twenty  thousand  dollars,"  pointed  out 
Newmark. 

"  And  I'm  putting  in  my  everlasting  reputation,"  said 
Orde.  "  If  we  tell  these  fellows  that  we'll  get  out  their 
logs  for  them,  and  then  don't  do  it,  I'll  be  dead  around 
here." 

"  So  that's  about  a  stand-off,"  said  Newmark.  "  I'm  bet- 
ting twenty  thousand  on  what  I've  seen  and  heard  of  you, 

90 


THE   RIVERMAN  91 

and  you're  risking  your  reputation  that  I  don't  want  to 
drop  my  money." 

Orde  laughed. 

"  And  I  reckon  we're  both  right,"  he  responded. 

"  Still,"  Newmark  pursued  the  subject,  "  I've  no  objec- 
tion to  telling  you  about  myself.  New  York  born  and  bred ; 
experience  with  Cooper  and  Dunne,  brokers,  eight  years. 
Money  from  a  legacy.  Parents  dead.  No  relatives  to 
speak  to." 

Orde  nodded  gravely  twice  in  acknowledgment. 

"  Now,"  said  Newmark,  "  have  you  had  time  to  do  any 
figuring?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  Orde,  "  I  got  at  it  a  little  yesterday 
afternoon,  and  a  little  this  noon.  I  have  a  rough  idea." 
He  produced  a  bundle  of  scribbled  papers  from  his  coat- 
pocket.  "  Here  you  are.  I  take  Daly  as  a  sample,  because 
I've  been  with  his  outfit.  It  costs  him  to  run  and  deliver 
his  logs  one  hundred  miles  about  two  dollars  a  thousand 
feet.  He's  the  only  big  manufacturer  up  here;  the  rest  are 
all  at  Monrovia,  where  they  can  get  shipping  by  water. 
I  suppose  it  costs  the  other  nine  firms  doing  business  on 
the  river  from  two  to  two  and  a  half  a  thousand." 

Newmark  produced  a  note-book  and  began  to  jot  down 
figures. 

"  Do  these  men  all  conduct  separate  drives  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  All  but  Proctor  and  old  Heinzman.  They  pool  in  to- 
gether." 

"  Now,"  went  on  Newmark,  "  if  we  were  to  drive  the 
whole  river,  how  could  we  improve  on  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  got  it  down  very  fine,  of  course,"  Orde 
told  him,  "  but  in  the  first  place  we  wouldn't  need  so 
many  men.  I  could  run  the  river  on  three  hundred  easy 
enough.  That  saves  wages  and  grub  on  two  hundred  right 
there.  And,  of  course,  a  few  improvements  on  the  river 


92  THE   RIVERMAN 

would  save  time,  which  in  our  case  would  mean  money. 
We  would  not  need  so  many  separate  cook  outfits  and  all 
that.  Of  course,  that  part  of  it  we'd  have  to  get  right 
down  and  figure  on,  and  it  will  take  time.  Then,  too,  if 
we  agreed  to  sort  and  deliver,  we'd  have  to  build  sorting 
booms  down  at  Monrovia." 

"  Suppose  we  had  all  that.  What,  for  example,  do  you 
reckon  you  could  bring  Daly's  logs  down  for  ?  " 

Orde  fell  into  deep  thought,  from  which  he  emerged 
occasionally  to  scribble  on  the  back  of  his  memoranda. 

"  I  suppose  somewhere  about  a  dollar,"  he  announced  at 
last.  He  looked  up  a  trifle  startled.  "  Why,"  he  cried,  "  that 
looks  like  big  money !  A  hundred  per  cent !  " 

Newmark  watched  him  for  a  moment,  a  quizzical  smile 
wrinkling  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  Hold  your  horses,"  said  he  at  last.  "  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  this  business,  but  I  can  see  a  few  things.  In 
the  first  place,  close  figuring  will  probably  add  a  few  cents 
to  that  dollar.  And  then,  of  course,  all  our  improvements 
will  be  absolutely  valueless  to  anybody  after  we've  got 
through  using  them.  You  said  yesterday  they'd  prob- 
ably stand  us  in  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  Even  at 
a  dollar  profit,  we'd  have  to  drive  seventy-five  million 
before  we  got  a  cent  back.  And,  of  course,  we've  got 
to  agree  to  drive  for  a  little  less  than  they  could  them- 
selves." 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Orde,  his  crest  falling. 

"  However,"  said  Newmark  briskly,  as  he  arose,  "  there's 
good  money  in  it,  as  you  say.  Now,  how  soon  can  you 
leave  Daly?" 

"  By  the  middle  of  the  week  we  ought  to  be  through 
with  this  job." 

"  That's  good.  Then  we'll  go  into  this  matter  of  expense 
thoroughly,  and  establish  our  schedule  of  rates  to  submit 
to  the  different  firms." 


THE    RIVERMAN  93 

Newmark  said  a  punctilious  farewell  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Orde. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Orde  to  him  at  the  gate,  "  where 
are  you  staying?  " 

"  At  the  Grand." 

"  I  know  most  of  the  people  here — all  the  young  folks. 
I'd  be  glad  to  take  you  around  and  get  you  acquainted." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Newmark,  "  you  are  very  kind. 
But  I  don't  go  in  much  for  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I 
expect  to  be  very  busy  now  on  this  new  matter ;  so  I  won't 
trouble  you." 


XI 

THE  new  partners,  as  soon  as  Orde  had  released 
himself  from  Daly,  gave  all  their  time  to  working 
out  a  schedule  of  tolls.  Orde  drew  on  his  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  river  and  its  tributaries,  and  the  loca- 
tions of  the  different  rollways,  to  estimate  as  closely  as 
possible  the  time  it  would  take  to  drive  them.  He  also 
hunted  up  Tom  North  and  others  of  the  older  men  domi- 
ciled in  the  cheap  boarding-houses  of  Hell's  Half-Mile, 
talked  with  them,  and  verified  his  own  impressions.  To- 
gether, he  and  Newmark  visited  the  supply  houses,  got 
prices,  obtained  lists.  All  the  evenings  they  figured  busily, 
until  at  last  Newmark  expressed  himself  as  satisfied. 

"  Now,  Orde,"  said  he,  "  here  is  where  you  come  in. 
It's  now  your  job  to  go  out  and  interview  these  men  and 
get  their  contracts  for  driving  their  next  winter's  cut." 

But  Orde  drew  back. 

"  Look  here,  Joe,"  he  objected,  "  that's  more  in  your 
line.  You  can  talk  business  to  them  better  than  I  can." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  negatived  Newmark.  "  They  don't  know  me 
from  Adam,  and  they  do  know  you,  and  all  about  you. 
We've  got  to  carry  this  thing  through  at  first  on  our  face, 
and  they'd  be  more  apt  to  entrust  the  matter  to  you  per- 
sonally." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Orde.  "  I'll  start  in  on  Daly." 

He  did  so  the  following  morning.  Daly  swung  his  bulk 
around  in  his  revolving  office-chair  and  listened  attentively. 

"  Well,  Jack,"  said  he,  "  I  think  you're  a  good  riverman, 
and  I  believe  you  can  do  it.  I'd  be  only  too  glad  to  get 

94 


THE   RIVERMAN  95 

/id  of  the  nuisance  of  it,  let  alone  get  it  done  cheaper. 
If  you'll  draw  up  your  contract  and  bring  it  in  here,  I'll 
sign  it.  I  suppose  you'll  break  out  the  roll  ways  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Orde ;  "  we  hadn't  thought  of  doing  more 
than  the  driving  and  distributing.  You'll  have  to  deliver 
the  lops  in  the  river.  Maybe  another  year,  after  we  get 
better  organised,  we'll  be  able  to  break  rollways — at  a  price 
per  thousand — but  until  we  get  a-going  we'll  have  to  rush 
her  through." 

Orde  repeated  this  to  his  associate. 

"  That  was  smooth  enough  sailing,"  he  exulted. 

"  Yes,"  pondered  Newmark,  removing  his  glasses  anc 
tapping  his  thumb  with  their  edge.  "  Yes,"  he  repeated, 
"  that  was  smooth  sailing.  What  was  that  about  rollways  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  we'd  expect  him  to  break  out  his  own," 
said  Orde. 

"  Yes,  but  what  does  that  mean  exactly  ?  " 

"  Why,"  explained  Orde,  with  a  slight  stare  of  surprise, 
"  when  the  logs  are  cut  and  hauled  during  the  winter,  they 
are  banked  on  the  river-banks,  and  even  in  the  river-chan- 
nel itself.  Then,  when  the  thaws  come  in  the  spring,  these 
piles  are  broken  down  and  set  afloat  in  the  river." 

"  I  see,"  said  Newmark.  "  Well,  but  why  shouldn't  we 
undertake  that  part  of  it?  I  should  think  that  would  be 
more  the  job  of  the  river-drivers." 

"  It  would  hold  back  our  drive  too  much  to  have  to  stop 
and  break  rollways,"  explained  Orde. 

The  next  morning  they  took  the  early  train  for  Mon- 
rovia, where  were  situated  the  big  mills  and  the  offices 
of  the  nine  other  lumber  companies.  Within  an  hour  they 
had  descended  at  the  small  frame  terminal  station,  and  were 
walking  together  up  the  village  street. 

Monrovia  was  at  that  time  a  very  spread-out  little  place 
of  perhaps  two  thousand  population.  It  was  situated  a  half 
mile  from  Lake  Michigan,  behind  the  sparsely  WP94?4  sand 


96  THE   RIVERMAN 

hills  of  its  shore.  From  the  river,  which  had  here  grown 
to  a  great  depth  and  width,  its  main  street  ran  directly  at 
right  angles.  Four  brick  blocks  of  three  stories  lent  im- 
pressiveness  to  the  vista.  The  stores  in  general,  however, 
were  low  frame  structures.  All  faced  broad  plank  sidewalk? 
raised  above  the  street  to  the  level  of  a  waggon  body. 
From  this  main  street  ran  off,  to  right  and  left,  other 
ttreets,  rendered  lovely  by  maple  trees  that  fairly  met 
across  the  way.  In  summer,  over  sidewalk  and  roadway 
alike  rested  a  dense,  refreshing  dark  shadow  that  seemed 
to  throw  from  itself  an  cdour  of  coolness.  This  was  ren- 
dered further  attractive  by  the  warm  spicy  odour  of  damp 
pint  that  arose  from  thf  resilient  surface  of  sawdust  and 
shingles  broken  beneath  the  wheels  of  traffic.  Back  from 
these  trees,  in  wide,  well  cultivated  lawns,  stood  the  better 
residences.  They  were  almost  invariably  built  of  many  cor- 
ners, with  steep  roofs  meeting  each  other  at  all  angles, 
with  wide  and  ornamented  red  chimneys,  numerous  win- 
dows, and  much  scroll  work  adorning  each  apex  and  cor- 
nice. The  ridge  poles  bristled  in  fancy  foot-high  palisades 
of  wood.  Chimneys  were  provided  with  lightning-rods. 
Occasionally  an  older  structure,  on  square  lines,  recorded 
the  era  of  a  more  dignified  architecture.  Everywhere  ran 
broad  sidewalks  and  picket  fences.  Beyond  the  better  resi- 
dence districts  were  the  board  shanties  of  the  mill  workers. 

Ode  and  Newmark  tramped  up  the  plank  walk  to  the 
farthest  brick  building.  When  they  came  to  a  cross  street, 
they  had  to  descend  to  it  by  a  short  flight  of  steps  on  one 
side,  and  ascend  from  it  by  a  corresponding  flight  on  the 
other.  At  the  hotel,  Newmark  seated  himself  in  a  rocking- 
chair  next  the  big  window. 

"Good  luck!"  said  he. 

Orde  mounted  a  wide,  dark  flight  of  stairs  that  led  from 
the  street  to  a  darker  hall.  The  smell  of  stale  cigars  and 
cocoa  matting  was  in  the  air.  Down  the  dim  length  of  this 


THE   RIVERMAN  97 

hall  he  made  his  way  to  a  door,  which  without  ceremony 
he  pushed  open. 

He  found  himself  in  a  railed-off  space,  separated  from 
the  main  part  of  the  room  by  a  high  walnut  grill. 

"  Mr.  Heinzman  in  ?  "  he  asked  of  a  clerk. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  the  clerk,  to  whom  evidently  Orde 
was  known. 

Orde  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning  with  Heinzman,  a 
very  rotund,  cautious  person  of  German  extraction  and  ac- 
cent. Heinzman  occupied  the  time  in  asking  questions  of 
all  sorts  about  the  new  enterprise.  At  twelve  he  had  not 
in  any  way  committed  himself  nor  expressed  an  opinion. 
He,  however,  instructed  Orde  to  return  the  afternoon  of 
the  following  day. 

"  I  vill  see  Proctor,"  said  he. 

Orde,  rather  exhausted,  returned  to  find  Newmark  still 
sitting  in  the  rocking-chair  with  his  unlighted  cigar.  The 
two  had  lunch  together,  after  which  Orde,  somewhat  re- 
freshed, started  out.  He  succeeded  in  getting  two  more 
promises  of  contracts  and  two  more  deferred  interviews. 

"  That's  going  a  little  faster,"  he  told  Newmark  cheer- 
fully. 

The  following  morning,  also,  he  was  much  encouraged 
by  the  reception  his  plan  gained  from  the  other  lumber- 
men. At  lunch  he  recapitulated  to  Newmark. 

"  That's  four  contracts  already,"  said  he,  "  and  three 
more  practically  a  sure  thing.  Proctor  and  Heinzman  are 
slower  than  molasses  about  everything,  and  mean  as  pus- 
ley,  and  Johnson's  up  in  the  air,  the  way  he  always  is, 
for  fear  some  one's  going  to  do  him." 

"  It  isn't  a  bad  outlook,"  admitted  Newmark. 

But  Heinzman  offered  a  new  problem  for  Orde's  con- 
sideration. 

"  I  haf  talked  with  Proctor,"  said  he,  "  and  ve  like  your 
scheme.  If  you  can  deliffer  our  logs  here  for  two  dollars 


q8  THE   RIVERMAN 

and  a  quarter,  why,  that  is  better  as  ve  can  do  it ;  but  how 
do  ve  know  you  vill  do  it  ?  " 

"  I'll  guarantee  to  get  them  here  all  right,"  laughed 
Orde. 

"  But  what  is  your  guarantee  good  for  ? "  persisted 
Heinzman  blandly,  locking  his  fingers  over  his  rotund 
little  stomach.  "  Suppose  the  logs  are  not  delivered — what 
then?  How  responsible  are  you  financially?" 

"  Well,  we're  investing  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  or 
so." 

Heinzman  rubbed  his  thumb  and  forefinger  together  and 
wafted  the  imaginary  pulverisation  away. 

"  Worth  that  for  a  judgment,"  said  he. 

He  allowed  a  pause  to  ensue. 

"If  you  vill  give  a  bond  for  the  performance  of  your 
contract,"  pursued  Heinzman,  "  that  vould  be  satisfactory.'* 

Orde's  mind  was  struck  chaotic  by  the  reasonable- 
ness of  this  request,  and  the  utter  impossibility  of  ac- 
ceding to  it. 

"  How  much  of  a  bond  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Twenty-fife  thousand  vould  satisfy  us,"  said  Heinzman. 
"  Bring  us  a  suitable  bond  for  that  amount  and  ve  vill 
sign  your  contract." 

Orde  ran  down  the  stairs  to  find  Newmark. 

"  Heinzman  won't  sign  unless  we  give  him  a  bond  101 
performance,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  dropped  into  the 
chair  next  to  Newmark. 

Newmark  removed  his  unlighted  cigar,  looked  at  the 
chewed  end,  and  returned  it  to  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"  Heinzman  has  sense,"  said  he  drily.  "  I  was  wondering 
if  ordinary  business  caution  was  unknown  out  here." 

"  Can  we  get  such  a  bond  ?  Nobody  would  go  on  my 
bond  for  that  amount." 

"  Mine  either,"  said  Newmark.  "  We'll  just  have  to  let 
them  go  and  drive  ahead  without  them.  I  only  hope  they 


THE    RIVERMAN  99 

won't  spread  the  idea.  Better  get  those  other  contracts 
signed  up  as  soon  as  we  can." 

With  this  object  in  view,  Orde  started  out  early  the  next 
morning,  carrying  with  him  the  duplicate  contracts  on 
which  Newmark  had  been  busy. 

"  Rope  'em  in,"  advised  Newmark.  "  It's  Saturday,  and 
"ye  don't  want  to  let  things  simmer  over  Sunday,  if  we 
can  help  it." 

About  eleven  o'clock  a  clerk  of  the  Welton  Lumber  Co. 
entered  Mr.  Welton's  private  office  to  deliver  to  Orde  a 
note. 

"  This  just  came  by  special  messenger,"  he  explained. 

Orde,  with  an  apology,  tore  it  open.  It  was  from  Heinz- 
man,  and  requested  an  immediate  interview.  Orde  delayed 
only  long  enough  to  get  Mr.  Welton's  signature,  then  has- 
tened as  fast  as  his  horse  could  take  him  across  the  draw- 
bridge to  the  village. 

Heinzman  he  found  awaiting  him.  The  little  German, 
with  his  round,  rosy  cheeks,  his  dot  of  a  nose,  his  big 
spectacles,  and  his  rotund  body,  looked  even  more  than 
usual  like  a  spider  or  a  Santa  Claus — Orde  could  not  de- 
cide which. 

"  I  haf  been  thinking  of  that  bond,"  he  began,  waving 
a  pudgy  hand  toward  a  seat,  "  and  I  haf  been  talking  with 
Proctor." 

"  Yes,"  said  Orde  hopefully. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  not  be  prepared  to  gif  a  bond  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  so." 

"  Veil,  suppose  ve  fix  him  this  way,"  went  on  Heinz- 
man, clasping  his  hands  over  his  stomach  and  beaming 
through  his  spectacles.  "  Proctor  and  I  haf  talked  it  ofer, 
and  ve  are  agreet  that  the  probosition  is  a  good  one.  Also 
ve  think  it  is  veil  to  help  the  young  fellers  along."  He 
laughed  silently  in  such  a  manner  as  to  shake  himself  all 
over.  "  Ve  do  not  vish  to  be  too  severe,  and  yet  ve  must 


loo  THE   RIVERMAN 

be  assured  that  ve  get  our  logs  on  time.  Now,  I  unterstood 
you  to  say  that  this  new  concern  is  a  stock  company." 
,     Orde  did  not  remember  having  said  so,  but  he  nodded. 

"  Veil,  if  you  gif  us  a  bond  secured  with  stock  in  the  new 
company,  that  would  be  satisfactory  to  us." 

Orde's  face  cleared. 

"  Do  you  mean  that,  Mr.  Heinzman  ?  " 

"  Sure.  Ve  must  haf  some  security,  but  ve  do  not  vish 
to  be  too  hard  on  you  boys." 

"  Now,  I  call  that  a  mighty  good  way  out !  "  cried  Orde. 

"  Make  your  contract  out  according  to  these  terms,  then," 
said  Heinzman,  handing  him  a  paper,  "  and  bring  it  in 
Monday." 

Orde  glanced  over  the  slip.  It  recited  two  and  a  quarter 
as  the  agreed  price ;  specified  the  date  of  delivery  at  Heinz- 
man and  Proctor's  booms ;  named  twenty-five  thousand  dol- 
lars as  the  amount  of  the  bond,  to  be  secured  by  fifty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stock  in  the  new  company.  This 
looked  satisfactory.  Orde  arose. 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Heinzman,"  said  he. 
"  I'll  bring  it  around  Monday." 

He  had  reached  the  gate  to  the  grill  before  Heinzman 
called  him  back. 

"  By  the  vay,"  the  little  German  beamed  up  at  him, 
swinging  his  fat  legs  as  the  office-chair  tipped  back  on  its 
springs,  "  if  it  is  to  be  a  stock  company,  you  vill  be  selling 
some  of  the  stock  to  raise  money,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Orde,  "  I  expect  so." 

"  How  much  vill  you  capitalise  for  ?  " 

"  We  expect  a  hundred  thousand  ought  to  do  the  trick," 
replied  Orde. 

"  Veil,"  said  Heinzman,  "  ven  you  put  it  on  the  market, 
come  and  see  me."  He  nodded  paternally  at  Orde,  beaming 
through  his  thick  spectacles. 

That  evening,  well  after  six,  Orde  returned  to  the  hotel 


THE   RIVERMAN  101 

After  freshening  up  in  the  marbled  and  boarded  washroom, 
he  hunted  up  Newmark. 

"  Well,  Joe,"  said  he,  "  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear.  Come 
on,  eat,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

They  deposited  their  hats  on  the  racks  and  pushed  open 
fhe  swinging  screen  doors  that  led  into  the  dining-room. 
There  they  were  taken  in  charge  by  a  marvellously  haughty 
and  redundant  head-waitress,  who  signalled  them  to  follow 
down  through  ranks  of  small  tables  watched  by  more  stately 
damsels.  Newmark,  reserved  and  precise,  irreproachably 
correct  in  his  neat  gray,  seemed  enveloped  in  an  aloofness 
as  impenetrable  as  that  of  the  head-waitress  herself.  Orde, 
however,  was  as  breezy  as  ever.  He  hastened  his  stride  to 
overtake  the  head-waitress. 

"  Annie,  be  good !  "  he  said  in  his  jolly  way.  "  We've  got 
business  to  talk.  Put  us  somewhere  alone." 

Newmark  nodded  approval,  and  thrust  his  hand  in  his 
pocket.  But  Annie  looked  up  into  Orde's  frank,  laughing 
face,  and  her  lips  curved  ever  so  faintly  in  the  condescen- 
sion of  a  smile. 

"  Sure,  sorr,"  said  she,  in  a  most  unexpected  brogue. 

"  Well,  I've  got  'em  all,"  said  Orde,  as  soon  as  the  wait- 
ress had  gone  with  the  order.  "  But  the  best  stroke  of  busi- 
ness you'd  never  guess.  I  roped  in  Heinzman." 

"  Good !  "  approved  Newmark  briefly. 

"  It  was  really  pretty  decent  of  the  little  Dutchman,  He 
agreed  to  let  us  put  up  our  stock  as  security.  Of  course, 
that  security  is  good  only  if  we  win  out;  and  if  we  win 
out,  why,  then  he'll  get  his  logs,  so  he  won't  have  any  use 
for  security.  So  it's  just  one  way  of  beating  the  devil 
around  the  bush.  He  evidently  wanted  to  give  us  the  busi- 
ness, but  he  hated  like  the  devil  to  pass  up  his  rules — you 
know  how  those  old  shellbacks  are." 

"  H'm,  yes,"  said  Newmark. 

The  waitress  sailed  in  through  a  violently  kicked  swing- 


102  THE    RIVERMAN 

ing  door,  bearing  aloft  a  tin  tray  heaped  perilously.  She 
slanted  around  a  corner  in  graceful  opposition  to  the  cen- 
trifugal, brought  the  tray  to  port  on  a  sort  of  landing 
stage  by  a  pillar,  and  began  energetically  to  distribute  small 
"  iron-ware  "  dishes,  each  containing  a  dab  of  something. 
When  the  clash  of  arrival  had  died,  Orde  went  on: 

"  I  got  into  your  department  a  little,  too." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  asked  Newmark,  spearing  a  baked  potato.' 

"  Heinzman  said  he'd  buy  some  of  our  stock.  He  seems 
to  think  we  have  a  pretty  good  show." 

Newmark  paused,  his  potato  half-way  to  his  plate. 

"  Kind  of  him,"  said  he  after  a  moment.  "  Did  he  sign 
a  contract  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  made  out,"  Orde  reminded  him.  "  I've  the 
memoranda  here.  We'll  make  it  out  to-night.  I  am  to  bring 
it  in  Monday." 

"  I  see  we're  hung  up  here  over  Sunday,"  observed  New- 
mark.  "  No  Sunday  trains  to  Redding." 

Orde  became  grave. 

"  I  know  it.  I  tried  to  hurry  matters  to  catch  the  six 
o'clock,  but  couldn't  make  it."  His  round,  jolly  face  fell 
sombre,  as  though  a  light  within  had  been  extinguished. 
After  a  moment  the  light  returned.  "  Can't  be  helped,"  said 
he  philosophically. 

They  ate  hungrily,  then  drifted  out  into  the  office  again, 
where  Orde  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Now,  let's  see  your  memoranda,"  said  Newmark. 

He  frowned  over  the  three  simple  items  for  some  time 

"  It's  got  me,"  he  confessed  at  last. 

"What?"  inquired  Orde. 

"  What  Heinzman  is  up  to." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Orde,  turning  in  his  chair 
with  an  air  of  slow  surprise. 

"  It  all  looks  queer  to  me.  He's  got  something  up  his 
sleeve.  Why  should  he  take  a  bond  with  that  security  from 


THE   RIVERMAN  103 

us?  If  we  can't  deliver  the  logs,  our  company  fails;  that 
makes  the  stock  worthless;  that  makes  the  bond  worthless 
— just  when  it  is  needed.  Of  course,  it's  as  plain  as  the 
nose  on  your  face  that  he  thinks  the  proposition  a  good  one 
and  is  trying  to  get  control." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Orde,  astounded. 

"  Orde,  you're  all  right  on  the  river,"  said  Newmark, 
with  a  dry  little  laugh,  "but  you're  a  babe  in  the  woods 
at  this  game." 

"  But  Heinzman  is  honest,"  cried  Orde.  "  Why,  he  is  a 
church  member,  and  has  a  class  in  Sunday-school." 

Newmark  selected  a  cigar  from  his  case,  examined 
it  from  end  to  end,  finally  put  it  between  his  lips.  The 
corners  of  his  mouth  were  twitching  quietly  with  amuse- 
ment. 

"  Besides,  he  is  going  to  buy  some  stock,"  added  Orde, 
after  a  moment. 

"  Heinzman  has  not  the  slightest  intention  of  buying  a 
dollar's  worth  of  stock,"  asserted  Newmark. 

"  But  why " 

"—Did  he  make  that  bluff?"  finished  Newmark.  "Be- 
cause he  wanted  to  find  out  how  much  stock  would  be 
issued.  You  told  him  it  would  be  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Why — yes,  I  believe  I  did,"  said  Orde,  pondering. 
-    Newmark  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  noiselessly. 
f    "  So  now  he  knows  that  if  we  forfeit  the  bond  he'll  have 
controlling  interest,"  he  pointed  out. 

Orde  smoked  rapidly,  his  brow  troubled. 

"  But  what  I  can't  make  out,"  reflected  Newmark,  "  is 
why  he's  so  sure  we'll  have  to  forfeit." 

"  I  think  he's  just  taking  a  long  shot  at  it,"  suggested 
Orde,  who  seemed  finally  to  have  decided  against  New- 
mark's  opinion.  "  I  believe  you're  shying  at  mare's  nests." 

"  Not  he.  He  has  some  good  reason  for  thinking  we 


104  THE   RIVERMAN 

won't  deliver  the  logs.  Why  does  he  insist  on  putting  in 
a  date  for  delivery?  None  of  the  others  does." 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Orde.  "Just  to  put  some  sort 
of  a  time  limit  on  the  thing,  I  suppose." 

"You  say  you  surely  can  get  the  drive  through  by 
then?" 

Orde  laughed. 

"  Sure  ?  Why,  it  gives  me  two  weeks'  leeway  over  the 
•worst  possible  luck  I  could  have.  You're  too  almighty  sus- 
picious, Joe." 

Newmark  shook  his  head. 

"  You  let  me  figure  this  out,"  said  he. 

But  bedtime  found  him  without  a  solution.  He  retired  to 
his  room  under  fire  of  Orde's  good-natured  raillery.  Orde 
himself  shut  his  door,  the  smile  still  on  his  lips.  As  he 
began  removing  his  coat,  however,  the  smile  died.  The 
week  had  been  a  busy  one.  Hardly  had  he  exchanged  a 
dozen  words  with  his  parents,  for  he  had  even  been  forced 
to  eat  his  dinner  and  supper  away  from  home.  This  Sun- 
day he  had  promised  himself  to  make  his  deferred  but 
much-desired  call  on  Jane  Hubbard — and  her  guest.  He 
turned  out  the  gas  with  a  shrug  of  resignation.  For  the 
first  time  his  brain  cleared  of  its  turmoil  of  calculations, 
of  guesses,  of  estimates,  and  of  men.  He  saw  clearly  the 
limited  illumination  cast  downward  by  the  lamp  beneath  its 
wide  shade,  the  graceful,  white  figure  against  the  shadow 
of  the  easy  chair,  the  oval  face  cut  in  half  by  the  lamp- 
light to  show  plainly  the  red  lips  with  the  quaint  upward 
quirks  at  the  corners,  and  dimly  the  inscrutable  eyes  and 
the  hair  with  the  soft  shadows.  With  a  sigh  he  felt  asleep. 

Some  time  in  the  night  he  was  awakened  by  a  persistent 
tapping  on  the  door.  In  the  woodsman's  manner,  he  was 
instantly  broad  awake.  He  lit  the  gas  and  opened  the  door 
to  admit  Newmark,  partially  dressed  over  his  night  gown. 

"  Orde,"  said  he  briefly  and  without  preliminary,  "  didn't 


THE   RIVERMAN  105 

you  tell  me  the  other  day  that  rollways  were  piled  both  on 
the  banks  and  in  the  river  ?  " 

"Yes,  sometimes,"  said  Orde.  "Why?" 

"  Then  they  might  obstruct  the  river  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  thought  so !  "  cried  Newmark,  with  as  near  an  ap- 
proach to  exultation  as  he  ever  permitted  himself.  "  Now, 
just  one  other  thing:  aren't  Heinzman's  rollways  below 
most  of  the  others  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  they  are,"  said  Orde. 

"  And,  of  course,  it  was  agreed,  as  usual,  that  Heinzman 
was  to  break  out  his  own  rollways?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Orde  slowly.  "  You  think  he  intends  to 
delay  things  enough  so  we  can't  deliver  on  the  date  agreed 
on." 

"  I  know  it,"  stated  Newmark  positively. 

"  But  if  he  refuses  to  deliver  the  logs,  no  court  of  law 
will " 

"  Law !  "  cried  Newmark.  "  Refuse  to  deliver !  You  don't 
know  that  kind.  He  won't  refuse  to  deliver.  There'll  just  be 
a  lot  of  inevitable  delays,  and  his  foreman  will  misunder- 
stand, and  all  that.  You  ought  to  know  more  about  that 
than  I  do." 

Orde  nodded,  his  eye  abstracted. 

"  It's  a  child-like  scheme,"  commented  Newmark.  "  If  I'd 
had  more  knowledge  of  the  business,  I'd  have  seen  it 
sooner." 

"  I'd  never  have  seen  it  at  all,"  said  Orde  humbly.  "  You 
seem  to  be  the  valuable  member  of  this  firm,  Joe." 

"  In  my  way,"  said  Newmark,  "  you  in  yours.  We  ought 
to  make  a  good  team." 


XII 

SUNDAY  afternoon,  Orde,  leaving  Newmark  to  de- 
vices of  his  own,  walked  slowly  up  the  main  street, 
turned  to   the   right  down  one  of  the  shaded   side 
residence  streets  that  ended  finally  in  a  beautiful  glistening 
sand-hill.  Up  this  he  toiled  slowly,  starting  at  every  step 
avalanches  and  streams  down  the  slope.  Shortly  he  found 
himself  on  the  summit,  and  paused  for  a  breath  of  air 
from  the  lake. 

He  was  just  above  the  tops  of  the  maples,  which  seen 
from  this  angle  stretched  away  like  a  forest  through  which 
occasionally  thrust  roofs  and  spires.  Some  distance  beyond 
a  number  of  taller  buildings  and  the  red  of  bricks  were 
visible.  Beyond  them  still  were  other  sand-hills,  planted  rag- 
gedly with  wind-twisted  and  stunted  trees.  But  between  the 
brick  buildings  and  these  sand-hills  flowed  the  river — wide, 
deep,  and  still — bordered  by  the  steamboat  landings  on  the 
town  side  and  by  fishermen's  huts  and  net-racks  and  small 
boats  on  the  other.  Orde  seated  himself  on  the  smooth, 
clean  sand  and  removed  his  hat.  He  saw  these  things,  and 
in  imagination  the  far  upper  stretches  of  the  river,  with 
the  mills  and  yards  and  booms  extending  for  miles;  and 
still  above  them  the  marshes  and  the  flats  where  the  river 
widened  below  the  Big  Bend.  That  would  be  the  location 
for  the  booms  of  the  new  company — a  cheap  property  on 
which  the  partners  had  already  secured  a  valuation.  And 
below  he  dropped  in  imagination  with  the  slackening  cur- 
rent until  between  two  greater  sand-hills  than  the  rest  the 
river  ran  out  through  the  channel  made  by  two  long  piers 

106 


THE    RIVERMAN  107 

to  the  lake — blue,  restless,  immeasurable.  To  right  and  left 
stretched  the  long  Michigan  coast,  with  its  low  yellow 
hills  topped  with  the  green  of  twisted  pines,  firs,  and 
beeches,  with  always  its  beach  of  sand,  deep  and  dry  to 
the  very  edge  of  its  tideless  sea,  strewn  with  sawlogs,  bark, 
and  the  ancient  remains  of  ships. 

After  he  had  cooled  he  arose  and  made  his  way  back 
to  a  pleasant  hardwood  forest  of  maple  and  beech.  Here 
the  leaves  were  just  bursting  from  their  buds.  Underfoot 
the  early  spring  flowers — the  hepaticas,  the  anemones,  the 
trilium,  the  dog-tooth  violets,  the  quaint,  early,  bright-green 
undergrowths — were  just  reaching  their  perfection.  Migra- 
tion was  in  full  tide.  Birds,  little  and  big,  flashed  into  view 
and  out  again,  busy  in  the  mystery  of  their  northward  pil- 
grimage, giving  the  appearance  of  secret  and  silent  fur- 
tiveness,  yet  each  uttering  his  characteristic  call  from  time 
to  time,  as  though  for  a  signal  to  others  of  the  host.  The 
woods  were  swarming  as  city  streets,  yet  to  Orde  these  little 
creatures  were  as  though  invisible.  He  stood  in  the  middle 
of  a  great  multitude,  he  felt  himself  under  the  observation 
of  many  bright  eyes,  he  heard  the  murmuring  and  twitter- 
ing that  proclaimed  a  throng,  he  sensed  an  onward  move- 
ment that  flowed  slowly  but  steadily  toward  the  pole ;  never- 
theless, a  flash  of  wings,  a  fluttering  little  body,  the  dip 
of  a  hasty  short  flight,  represented  the  visible  tokens.  Across 
the  pale  silver  sun  of  April  their  shadows  flickered,  and 
with  them  flickered  the  tracery  of  new  leaves  and  the  deli- 
cacy of  the  lace-like  upper  branches. 

Orde  walked  slowly  farther  and  farther  into  the  forest, 
lost  in  an  enjoyment  which  he  could  not  have  defined  accu- 
rately, but  which  was  so  integral  a  portion  of  his  nature 
that  it  had  drawn  him  from  the  banks  and  wholesale  gro- 
ceries to  the  woods.  After  a  while  he  sat  down  on  a  log 
and  lit  his  pipe.  Ahead  the  ground  sloped  upward.  Dimly 
through  the  half-fronds  of  the  early  season  he  could  make 


jo8  THE   RIVERMAN 

out  the  yellow  of  sands  and  the  deep  complementary  blue 
of  the  sky  above  them.  He  knew  the  Lake  to  lie  just  be- 
yond. With  the  thought  he  arose.  A  few  moments  later 
he  stood  on  top  the  hill,  gazing  out  over  the  blue  waters. 

Very  blue  they  were,  with  a  contrasting  snowy  white 
fringe  of  waves  breaking  gently  as  far  up  the  coast  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  The  beach,  on  these  tideless  waters,  was 
hard  and  smooth  only  in  the  narrow  strip  over  which  ran 
the  wash  of  the  low  surf.  All  the  rest  of  the  expanse  of 
sand  back  to  the  cliff-like  hills  lay  dry  and  tumbled  into 
hummocks  and  drifts,  from  which  projected  here  a  sawlog 
cast  inland  from  a  raft  by  some  long-past  storm,  there  a 
slab,  again  a  ship's  rib  sticking  gaunt  and  defiant  from  the 
shifting,  restless  medium  that  would  smother  it.  And  just 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  hard  sand,  following  the  long  curves 
of  the  wash,  lay  a  dark,  narrow  line  of  bark  fragments. 

The  air  was  very  clear  and  crystalline.  The  light-houses 
on  the  ends  of  the  twin  piers,  though  some  miles  distant, 
seemed  close  at  hand.  White  herring  gulls,  cruising  against 
the  blue,  flashed  white  as  the  sails  of  a  distant  ship.  A 
fresh  breeze  darkened  the  blue  velvet  surface  of  the  water, 
tumbled  the  white  foam  hissing  up  the  beach,  blew  forward 
over  the  dunes  a  fine  hurrying  mist  of  sand,  and  bore  to 
Orde  at  last  the  refreshment  of  the  wide  spaces.  A  woman, 
walking  slowly,  bent  her  head  against  the  force  of  this  wind. 

Orde  watched  her  idly.  She  held  to  the  better  footing 
of  the  smooth  sand,  which  made  it  necessary  that  she  re- 
treat often  before  the  inrushing  wash,  sometimes  rather 
hastily.  Orde  caught  himself  admiring  the  grace  of  her 
deft  and  sudden  movements,  and  the  sway  of  her  willowy 
figure.  Every  few  moments  she  turned  and  faced  the  lake, 
her  head  thrown  back,  the  wind  whipping  her  garments 
about  her. 

As  she  drew  nearer,  Orde  tried  in  vain  to  catch  sight 
of  her  face.  She  looked  down,  watching  the  waters  advance 


THE    RIVERMAN  109 

and  recede ;  she  wore  a  brimmed  hat  bent  around  her  head 
by  means  of  some  sort  of  veil  tied  over  the  top  and  beneath 
her  chin.  When  she  had  arrived  nearly  opposite  Orde  she 
turned  abruptly  inland,  and  a  moment  later  began  laboriously 
to  climb  the  steep  sand. 

The  process  seemed  to  amuse  her.  She  turned  her  head 
sidewise  to  watch  with  interest  the  hurrying,  tumbling  little 
cascades  that  slid  from  her  every  step.  From  time  to  time 
she  would  raise  her  skirts  daintily  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  and  lean  far  over  in  order  to  observe  with  interest 
how  her  feet  sank  to  the  ankles,  and  how  the  sand  rushed 
from  either  side  to  fill  in  the  depressions.  The  wind  carried 
up  to  Orde  low,  joyous  chuckles  of  delight,  like  those  of 
a  happy  child. 

As  though  directed  by  some  unseen  guide,  her  course 
veered  more  and  more  until  it  led  directly  to  the  spot  where 
Orde  stood.  When  she  was  within  ten  feet  of  him  she  at 
last  raised  her  head  so  the  young  man  could  see  something 
besides  the  top  of  her  hat.  Orde  looked  plump  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Hullo !  "  she  said  cheerfully  and  unsurprised,  and  sank 
'down  cross-legged  at  his  feet. 

Orde  stood  quite  motionless,  overcome  by  astonishment. 
Her  face,  its  long  oval  framed  in  the  bands  of  the  gray 
veil  and  the  down-turned  brim  of  the  hat,  looked  up  smiling 
into  his.  The  fresh  air  had  deepened  the  colour  beneath 
her  skin  and  had  blown  loose  stray  locks  of  the  fine  shadow- 
filled  hair.  Her  red  lips,  with  the  quaintly  up-turned  cor- 
ners, smiled  at  him  with  a  new  frankness,  and  the  black 
eyes — the  eyes  so  black  as  to  resemble  spots — had  lost  their 
half-indolent  reserve  and  brimmed  over  quite  frankly  with 
the  joy  of  life.  She  scooped  up  a  handful  of  the  dry,  clean 
sand  from  either  side  of  her,  raised  it  aloft,  and  let  it 
trickle  slowly  between  her  fingers.  The  wind  snatched  at 
the  sand  and  sprayed  it  away  in  a  beautiful  plume. 


lie  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Isn't  this  real  fun  ?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  Why,  Miss  Bishop ! "  cried  Orde,  finding  his  voice. 
"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

A  faint  shade  of  annoyance  crossed  her  brow. 

"  Oh,  I  could  ask  the  same  of  you ;  and  then  we'd  talk 
about  how  surprised  we  are,  world  without  end,"  said  she. 
"  The  important  thing  is  that  here  is  sand  to  play  in,  and 
there  is  the  Lake,  and  here  are  we,  and  the  day  is  charmed, 
and  it's  good  to  be  alive.  Sit  down  and  dig  a  hole !  We've 
all  the  common  days  to  explain  things  in." 

Orde  laughed  and  seated  himself  to  face  her.  Without 
further  talk,  and  quite  gravely,  they  commenced  to  scoop 
out  an  excavation  between  them,  piling  the  sand  over  them- 
selves and  on  either  side  as  was  most  convenient.  As  the 
hole  grew  deeper  they  had  to  lean  over  more  and  more. 
Their  heads  sometimes  brushed  ever  so  lightly,  their  hands 
perforce  touched.  Always  the  dry  sand  flowed  from  the 
edges  partially  to  fill  in  the  result  their  efforts.  Faster  and 
faster  they  scooped  it  out  again.  The  excavation  thus  took  on 
the  shape  of  a  funnel.  Her  cheeks  glowed  pink,  her  eyes 
shone  like  stars.  Entirely  was  she  absorbed  in  the  task.  At 
last  a  tiny  commotion  manifested  itself  in  the  bottom  of  the 
funnel.  Impulsively  she  laid  her  hand  on  Orde's,  to  stop 
them.  Fascinated,  they  watched.  After  incredible  though 
lilliputian  upheavals,  at  length  appeared  a  tiny  black  insect, 
struggling  against  the  rolling,  overwhelming  sands.  With 
great  care  the  girl  scooped  this  newcomer  out  and  set  him 
on  the  level  ground.  She  looked  up  happily  at  Orde,  thrust- 
ing the  loose  hair  from  in  front  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  was  convinced  we  ought  to  dig  a  hole,"  said  she 
gravely.  "  Now,  let's  go  somewhere  else." 

She  arose  to  her  feet,  shaking  the  sand  free  from  her 
skirts. 

"  I  think,  through  these  woods,"  she  decided.  "  Can  we 
get  back  to  town  this  way?" 


THE   RIVERMAN  ill 

Receiving  Orde's  assurance,  she  turned  at  once  down 
the  slope  through  the  fringe  of  scrub  spruces  and  juni- 
pers into  the  tall  woods.  Here  the  air  fell  still.  She  re- 
marked on  how  warm  it  seemed,  and  began  to  untie  from 
over  her  ears  the  narrow  band  of  veil  that  held  close 
her  hat. 

"Yes,"  replied  Orde.  "The  lumber-jacks  say  that  the 
woods  are  the  poor  man's  overcoat." 

She  paused  to  savour  this,  her  head  on  one  side,  her 
arms  upraised  to  the  knot. 

"  Oh,  I  like  that !  "  said  she,  continuing  her  task.  In  a 
moment  or  so  the  veil  hung  free.  She  removed  it  and  the 
hat,  and  swung  them  both  from  one  finger,  and  threw 
back  her  head. 

"  Hear  all  the  birds !  "  she  said. 

Softly  she  began  to  utter  a  cheeping  noise  between  her 
lips  and  teeth,  low  and  plaintive.  At  once  the  volume  of 
:>ird-sounds  about  increased;  the  half-seen  flashes  became 
more  frequent.  A  second  later  the  twigs  were  alive  with 
tiny  warblers  and  creepers,  flirting  from  branch  to  branch, 
with  larger,  more  circumspect  chewinks,  catbirds,  and 
finches  hopping  down  from  above,  very  silent,  very  grave. 
In  the  depths  of  the  thickets  the  shyer  hermit  and  olive 
thrushes  and  the  oven  birds  revealed  themselves  ghost-like, 
or  as  sea-growths  lift  into  a  half  visibility  through  translu- 
cent shadows  the  colour  of  themselves.  All  were  very  in- 
tent, very  earnest,  very  interested,  each  after  his  own  man- 
ner, in  the  comradeship  of  the  featherhood  he  imagined 
to  be  uttering  distressful  cries.  A  few,  like  the  chickadees, 
quivered  their  wings,  opened  their  little  mouths,  fluttered 
down  tiny  but  aggressive  against  the  disaster.  Others 
hopped  here  and  there  restlessly,  uttering  plaintive,  low- 
toned  cheeps.  The  shyest  contented  themselves  by  a  discreet, 
silent,  and  distant  sympathy.  Three  or  four  freebooting 
jays,  attracted  not  so  much  by  the  supposed  calls  for  help 


112  THE    RIVERMAN 

as  by  curiosity,  fluttered  among  the  tops  of  the  trees,  utter- 
ing their  harsh  notes. 

Finally,  the  girl  ended  her  performance  in  a  musical 
laugh. 

"  Run  away,  Brighteyes,"  she  called.  "  It's  all  right ;  no- 
body's damaged." 

She  waved  her  hand.  As  though  at  a  signal,  the  host 
she  had  evoked  melted  back  into  the  shadows  of  the  forest. 
Only  the  chickadee,  impudent  as  ever,  retreated  scolding 
rather  ostentatiously,  and  the  jays,  splendid  in  their  ornate 
blue,  screamed  opinions  at  each  other  from  the  tops  of  trees. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  be  a  bird  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Hadn't  thought,"  replied  Orde. 

"  Don't  you  ever  indulge  in  vain  and  idle  speculations  ?  " 
she  inquired.  "  Never  mind,  don't  answer.  It's  too  much 
to  expect  of  a  man." 

She  set  herself  in  idle  motion  down  the  slope,  swinging 
the  hat  at  the  end  of  its  veil,  pausing  to  look  or  listen, 
humming  a  little  melody  between  her  closed  lips,  throwing 
her  head  back  to  breathe  deep  the  warm  air,  revelling  in 
the  woods  sounds  and  woods  odours  and  woods  life  with 
entire  self-abandonment.  Orde  followed  her  in  silence.  She 
seemed  to  be  quite  without  responsibility  in  regard  to  him ; 
and  yet  an  occasional  random  remark  thrown  in  his  direc- 
tion proved  that  he  was  not  forgotten.  Finally  they  emerged 
from  the  beach  woods. 

They  faced  an  open  rolling  country.  As  far  as  the  eye 
CDuld  reach  were  the  old  stumps  of  pine  trees.  Sometimes 
they  stood  in  place,  burned  and  scarred,  but  attesting 
mutely  the  abiding  place  of  a  spirit  long  since  passed  away. 
Sometimes  they  had  been  uprooted  and  dragged  to  mark 
the  boundaries  of  fields,  where  they  raised  an  abatis  of 
twisted  roots  to  the  sky. 

The  girl  stopped  short  as  she  came  face  to  face  with 
this  open  country.  The  inner  uplift,  that  had  lent  to  her 


THE    RIVERMAN  113 

aspect  the  wide-eyed,  careless  toy  of  a  child,  faded.  In  its 
place  came  a  new  and  serious  gravity.  She  turned  on  him 
troubled  eyes. 

"  You  do  this,"  she  accused  him  quite  simply. 

For  answer  he  motioned  to  the  left  where  below  them 
lay  a  wide  and  cultivated  countryside — farmhouses  sur- 
rounded by  elms;  compact  wood  lots  of  hardwood;  crops 
and  orchards,  all  fair  and  pleasant  across  the  bosom  of  a 
fertile  nature. 

"  And  this,"  said  he.  "  That  valley  was  once  nothing  but 
a  pine  forest — and  so  was  all  the  southern"  part  of  the  State, 
the  peach  belt  and  the  farms.  And  for  that  matter  Indi- 
ana, too,  and  all  the  other  forest  States  right  out  to  the 
prairies.  Where  would  we  be  now,  if  we  hadn't  done  that  ?  " 
he  pointed  across  at  the  stump-covered  hills. 

Mischief  had  driven  out  the  gravity  from  the  girl's  eyes. 
She  had  lowered  her  head  slightly  sidewise  as  though  to 
conceal  their  expression  from  him. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  be  afraid  you'd  say  '  yes-indeed,' " 
said  she. 

Orde  looked  bewildered,  then  remembered  the  Incubus, 
and  laughed. 

"  I  haven't  been  very  conversational,"  he  acknowledged. 

"Certainly  not!"  she  said  severely.  "That  would  have 
been  very  disappointing.  There  has  been  nothing  to  say." 

She  turned  and  waved  her  hat  at  the  beech  woods  fall- 
ing sombre  against  the  lowering  sun. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said  gravely,  "  and  pleasant  dreams  to 
you.  I  hope  those  very  saucy  little  birds  won't  keep  you 
awake."  She  looked  up  at  Orde.  "  He  was  rather  nice  to 
us  this  afternoon,"  she  explained,  "  and  it's  always  well  to 
be  polite  to  them  anyway."  She  gazed  steadily  at  Orde  for 
signs  of  amusement.  He  resolutely  held  his  face  sympa- 
thetic. 

"  Now  I  think  we'll  go  home,"  said  she. 


114  THE   RIVERMAN 

They  made  their  way  between  the  stumps  to  the  edge 
of  the  sand-hill  overlooking  the  village.  With  one  accord 
they  stopped.  The  low-slanting  sun  cast  across  the  vista  a 
sleepy  light  of  evening. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  live  in  a  place  like  that  all  your 
life?"  asked  Orde. 

"  I  don't  know."  She  weighed  her  words  carefully.  "  It 
would  depend.  The  place  isn't  of  so  much  importance,  it 
seems  to  me.  It's  the  life  one  is  called  to.  It's  whether  one 
finds  her  soul's  realm  or  not  that  a  place  is  liveable  or  not. 
I  can  imagine  entering  my  kingdom  at  a  railway  water- 
tank,"  she  said  quaintly,  "  or  missing  it  entirely  in  a  big 
city." 

Orde  looked  out  over  the  raw  little  village  with  a  new 
interest. 

"  Of  course  I  can  see  how  a  man's  work  can  lie  in  a  small 
place,"  said  he ;  "  but  a  woman  is  different." 

"  Why  is  a  woman  different  ?  "  she  challenged.  "  What 
is  her  '  work,'  as  you  call  it ;  and  why  shouldn't  it,  as  well 
as  a  man's,  lie  in  a  small  place?  What  is  work — outside 
of  drudgery — unless  it  is  correspondence  of  one's  abilities 
to  one's  task  ?  " 

"  But  the  compensations — "  began  Orde  vaguely. 

"  Compensations  ? "  she  cried.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Here  are  the  woods  and  fields,  the  river,  the  lake,  the  birds, 
and  the  breezes.  We'll  check  them  off  against  the  theatre 
and  balls.  Books  can  be  had  here  as  well  as  anywhere. 
As  to  people:  in  a  large  city  you  meet  a  great  many,  and 
they're  all  busy,  and  unless  you  make  an  especial  and  par- 
ticular effort — which  you're  not  likely  to — you'll  see  them 
only  casually  and  once  in  a  great  while.  In  a  small  place 
you  know  fewer  people;  but  you  know  them  intimately." 
She  broke  off  with  a  half-laugh.  "  I'm  from  New  York," 
she  stated  humorously,  "  and  you've  magicked  me  into  an 
eloquent  defence  of  Podunk!"  She  laughed  up  at  Orde 


THE    RIVERMAN  115 

quite  frankly.  "  Giant  Strides !  "  she  challenged  suddenly. 
She  turned  off  the  edge  of  the  sand-hill,  and  began  to 
plunge  down  its  slope,  leaning  far  back,  her  arms  extended, 
increasing  as  much  as  possible  the  length  of  each  step. 
Orde  followed  at  full  speed.  When  the  bottom  was  reached, 
he  steadied  her  to  a  halt.  She  shook  herself,  straightened 
her  hat,  and  wound  the  veil  around  it.  Her  whole  aspect 
seemed  to  have  changed  with  the  descent  into  the  con- 
ventionality of  the  village  street.  The  old,  gentle  though 
capable  and  self-contained  reserve  had  returned.  She  moved 
beside  Orde  with  dignity. 

"  I  came  down  with  Jane  and  Mrs.  Hubbard  to  see  Mr. 
Hubbard  off  on  the  boat  for  Milwaukee  last  night,"  she  told 
him.  "  Of  course  we  had  to  wait  over  Sunday.  Mrs.  Hub- 
bard and  Jane  had  to  see  some  relative  or  other ;  but  I  pre- 
ferred to  take  a  walk." 

"  Where  are  you  staying  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  At  the  Bennetts'.  Do  you  know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Orde. 

They  said  little  more  until  the  Bennetts'  gate  was  reached. 
Orde  declined  to  come  in. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  thank  you.  You  did 
not  once  act  as  though  you  thought  I  was  silly  or  crazy. 
And  you  didn't  try,  as  all  the  rest  of  them  would,  to  act 
silly  too.  You  couldn't  have  done  it;  and  you  didn't  try. 
Oh,  you  may  have  felt  it — I  know !  "  She  smiled  one  of  her 
quaint  and  quizzical  smiles.  "  But  men  aren't  built  for  fool- 
ishness. They  have  to  leave  that  to  us.  You've  been  very 
nice  this  afternoon ;  and  it's  helped  a  lot.  I'm  good  for  quite 
a  long  stretch  now.  Good-night." 

She  nodded  to  him  and  left  him  tongue-tied  by  the  gate. 

Orde,  however,  walked  back  to  the  hotel  in  a  black  rage 
with  himself  over  what  he  termed  his  imbecility.  As  he  re- 
membered it,  he  had  made  just  one  consecutive  speech  that 
rfternoon. 


116  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Joe,"  said  he  to  Newmark,  at  the  hotel  office,  "  what's 
the  plural  form  of  Incubus?  I  dimly  remember  it  isn't 
'  busses/  " 

"  Incubi,"  answered  Newmark. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Orde  gloomily. 


XIII 

1HAVE  Heinzman's  contract  all  drawn,"  said  New- 
mark  the  next  morning,  "  and  I  think  I'll  go  around 
with  you  to  the  office." 

At  the  appointed  time  they  found  the  little  German  await- 
ing them,  a  rotund  smile  of  false  good-nature  illuminating 
his  rosy  face.  Orde  introduced  his  partner.  Newmark  im- 
mediately took  charge  of  the  interview. 

"  I  have  executed  here  the  contract,  and  the  bonds  se- 
cured by  Mr.  Orde's  and  my  shares  of  stock  in  the  new 
company,"  he  explained.  "  It  is  only  necessary  that  you 
affix  your  signature  and  summon  the  required  witnesses." 

Heinzman  reached  his  hands  for  the  papers,  beaming 
over  his  glasses  at  the  two  young  men. 

As  he  read,  however,  his  smile  vanished,  and  he  looked 
up  sharply. 

"  Vat  is  this  ?  "  he  inquired,  a  new  crispness  in  his  voice. 
"  You  tolt  me,"  he  accused  Orde,  "  dot  you  were  not  bre- 
pared  to  break  out  the  rollways.  You  tolt  me  you  would 
egspect  me  to  do  that  for  myself." 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  Orde. 

"  Veil,  why  do  you  put  in  this  ?  "  demanded  Heinzman, 
reading  from  the  paper  in  his  hand.  "  '  In  case  said  roll' 
ways  belonging  to  said  parties  of  the  second  part  are  not 
broken  out  by  the  time  the  drive  has  reached  them,  and 
in  case  on  demand  said  parties  of  the  second  part  do  refuse 
or  do  not  exercise  due  diligence  in  breaking  out  said  roll- 
ways,  the  said  parties  of  the  first  part  shall  themselves 
break  out  said  rollways,  and  the  said  parties  of  the  second 

117 


ii8  THE    RIVERMAN 

part  do  hereby  agree  to  reimburse  said  parties  of  the  first 
part  at  the  rate  of  a  dollar  per  thousand  board  feet.' " 

"  That  is  merely  to  protect  ourselves,"  struck  in  New- 
mark. 

"  But,"  exploded  Heinzman,  his  face  purpling,  "  a  dollar 
a  tousand  is  absurd !  " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  agreed  Newmark.  "  We  expect  it  to 
be.  But  also  we  expect  you  to  break  out  your  own  roll- 
ways  in  time.  It  is  intended  as  a  penalty  in  case  you  don't." 

"  I  vill  not  stand  for  such  foolishness,"  pounded  Heinz- 
man on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Newmark  crisply,  reaching  for  the 
contract. 

But  Heinzman  clung  to  it. 

"  It  is  absurd,"  he  repeated  in  a  milder  tone.  "  See,  I  vill 
strike  it  out."  He  did  so  with  a  few  dashes  of  the  pen. 

"  We  have  no  intention,"  stated  Newmark  with  deci- 
sion, "  of  giving  you  the  chance  to  hang  up  our  drive." 

Heinzman  caught  his  breath  like  a  child  about  to  cry 
out. 

"  So  that  is  what  you  think ! "  he  shouted  at  them. 
"  That's  the  sort  of  men  you  think  we  are !  I'll  show  you 
you  cannot  come  into  honest  men's  offices  to  insoolt  them 
by  such  insinuations ! "  He  tore  the  contract  in  pieces  and 
threw  it  in  the  waste  basket.  "  Get  oudt  of  here ! "  he 
cried. 

Newmark  arose  as  dry  and  precise  as  ever.  Orde  was 
going  red  and  white  by  turns,  and  his  hands  twitched. 

"  Then  I  understand  you  to  refuse  our  offer  ? "  asked 
Newmark  coolly. 

"  Refuse !  Yes !  You  and  your  whole  kapoodle ! "  yelled 
Heinzman. 

He  hopped  down  and  followed  them  to  the  grill  door, 
repeating  over  and  over  that  he  had  been  insulted.  The 
clerks  stared  in  amazement. 


THE    RIVERMAN  119 

Once  at  the  foot  of  the  dark  stairs  and  in  the  open  street, 
Orde  looked  up  at  the  sky  with  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"  Whew !  "  said  he,  "  that  was  a  terror !  We've  gone  off 
the  wrong  foot  that  time." 

Newmark  looked  at  him  with  some  amusement. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  fooled  you ! "  he  marvelled. 

"What?  "asked  Orde. 

"  All  that  talk  about  insults,  and  the  rest  of  the  rubbish. 
He  saw  we  had  spotted  his  little  scheme;  and  he  had  to 
retreat  somehow.  It  was  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your 
face." 

"You  think  so?"  doubted  Orde. 

"  I  know  so.  If  he  was  mad  at  all,  it  was  only  at  being 
found  out." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Orde. 

"  We've  got  an  enemy  on  our  hands  in  any  case,"  con- 
cluded Newmark,  "  and  one  we'll  have  to  look  out  for. 
I  don't  know  how  he'll  do  it;  but  he'll  try  to  make  trouble 
on  the  river.  Perhaps  he'll  try  to  block  the  stream  by  not 
breaking  his  rollways." 

"  One  of  the  first  things  we'll  do  will  be  to  boom  through 
a  channel  where  Mr.  Man's  rollways  will  be,"  said  Orde. 

A  faint  gleam  of  approval  lit  Newmark's  eyes. 

"  J.  guess  you'll  be  equal  to  the  occasion,"  said  he  drily. 

Before  the  afternoon  train,  there  remained  four  hours. 
The  partners  at  once  hunted  out  the  little  one-story  frame 
building  near  the  river  in  which  Johnson  conducted  his 
business. 

Johnson  received  them  with  an  evident  reserve  of  sus- 
picion. 

"  I  see  no  use  in  it,"  said  he,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
hair  "  slicked  "  down  in  the  lumber- jack  fashion.  "  I  can 
run  me  own  widout  help  from  any  man." 

"  Which  seems  to  settle  that !  "  said  Newmark  to  Orde 
after  they  had  left. 


120  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Oh,  well,  his  drive  is  small ;  and  he's  behind  us,"  Orde 
pointed  out. 

"  True,"  said  Newmark  thoughtfully. 

"  Now,"  said  Newmark,  as  they  trudged  back  to  their 
hotel  to  get  lunch  and  their  hand-bags.  "  I'll  get  to  work 
at  my  part  of  it.  This  proposition  of  Heinzman's  has  given 
me  an  idea.  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  sell  this  stock  outside, 
but  to  the  men  who  own  timber  along  the  river.  Then  they 
won't  be  objecting  to  the  tolls;  for  if  the  company  makes 
any  profits,  part  will  go  to  them." 

"  Good  idea !  "  cried  Orde. 

"  I'll  take  these  contracts,  to  show  we  can  do  the  busi- 
ness." 

"All  correct." 

"And  I'll  see  about  incorporation.  Also  I'll  look  about 
and  get  a  proper  office  and  equipments,  and  get  hold  of 
a  book-keeper.  Of  course  we'll  have  to  make  this  our  head- 
quarters." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Orde  a  little  blankly.  After  an  in- 
stant he  laughed.  "  Do  you  know,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that ! 
We'll  have  to  live  here,  won't  we  ?  " 

"  Also,"  went  on  Newmark  calmly,  "  I'll  buy  the  sup- 
plies to  the  best  advantage  I  can,  and  see  that  they  get 
here  in  good  shape.  I  have  our  preliminary  lists,  and  as  :ast 
as  you  think  you  need  anything,  send  a  requisition  in  to  me, 
and  I'll  see  to  it." 

"And  I?  "inquired  Orde. 

"You'll  get  right  at  the  construction.  Get  the  booms 
built  and  improve  the  river  where  it  needs  it.  Begin  to 
get  your  crew — I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  how ;  you  know 
better  than  I  do.  Only  get  everything  in  shape  for  next 
spring's  drive.  You  can  start  right  off.  We  have  my  money 
to  begin  on." 

Orde  laughed  and  stretched  his  arms  over  his  head. 

"My!  She's  a  nice  big  job,  isn't  she?"  he  cried  joyously. 


XIV 

ORDE,  in  spite  of  his  activities,  managed  to  see  Car- 
roll Bishop  twice  during  the  ensuing  week. 
On   his    return    home    late    Monday   afternoon, 
Grandma  Orde  informed  him  with  a  shrewd  twinkle  that 
she  wanted  him  surely  at  home  the  following  evening. 

"  I've  asked  in  three  or  four  of  the  young  people  for  a 
candy  pull,"  said  she. 

"Who,  mother?"  asked  Orde. 

"  Your  crowd.  The  Smiths,  Collinses,  Jane  Hubbard,  and 
Her,"  said  Grandma  Orde,  which  probably  went  to  show 
that  she  had  in  the  meantime  been  making  inquiries,  and 
was  satisfied  with  them. 

"Do  you  suppose  they'll  care  for  candy  pulling?"  haz- 
arded Orde  a  little  doubtfully. 

"  You  mean,  will  she  ?  "  countered  Grandma.  "  Well,  I 
hope  for  both  your  sakes  she  is  not  beyond  a  little  old- 
fashioned  fun." 

So  it  proved.  The  young  people  straggled  in  at  an  early 
hour  after  supper — every  one  had  supper  in  those  days. 
Carroll  Bishop  and  Jane  arrived  nearly  the  last.  Orde 
stepped  into  the  hall  to  help  them  with  their  wraps.  He 
was  surprised  as  he  approached  Miss  Bishop  to  lift  her 
cloak  from  her  shoulders,  to  find  that  the  top  of  her  dain- 
tily poised  head,  with  its  soft,  fine  hair,  came  well  below  the 
level  of  his  eyes.  Somehow  her  poise,  her  slender  grace  of 
movement  and  of  attitude,  had  lent  her  the  impression  of  a 
stature  she  did  not  possess.  To-night  her  eyes,  while  fath- 
omless as  ever,  shone  quietly  in  anticipation. 

121 


122  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  told  Orde  delightedly,  "  I  have 
never  been  to  a  real  candy  pull  in  my  life.  It  was  so  good 
of  your  mother  to  ask  me.  What  a  dear  she  looks  to-night. 
And  is  that  your  father?  I'm  going  to  speak  to  him." 

She  turned  through  the  narrow  door  into  the  lighted, 
low-ceilinged  parlour  where  the  company  were  chatting 
busily.  Orde  mechanically  followed  her.  He  was  arrested 
by  the  sound  of  Jane  Hubbard's  slow  good-humoured  voice 
behind  him. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  she  drawled,  "  I  agree  with  you  perfectly ; 
but  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be  neglected  entirely. 
Come  and  hang  up  my  coat." 

Full  of  remorse,  Orde  turned.  Jane  Hubbard  stood  ac- 
cusingly in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  her  plain,  shrewd,  good- 
humoured  face  smiling  faintly.  Orde  met  her  frank  wide 
eyes  with  some  embarrassment. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Jane,  holding  out  the  coat.  "  I  don't 
much  care  whether  you  hang  it  up  or  not.  I  just  wanted 
to  call  you  back  to  wish  you  luck."  Her  slow  smile  widened, 
and  her  gray  eyes  met  his  still  more  knowingly. 

Orde  seized  the  coat  and  her  hand  at  the  same  time. 

"  Jane,  you're  a  trump,"  said  he.  "  No  wonder  you're 
the  most  popular  girl  in  town." 

"  Of  course  I  am,  Jack,"  she  agreed  indolently.  She  en- 
tered the  parlour. 

The  candy  pulling  was  a  success.  Of  course  everybody 
got  burned  a  little  and  spattered  a  good  deal ;  but  that  was 
to  be  expected.  After  the  product  had  been  broken  and  been 
piled  on  dishes,  all  trooped  to  the  informal  "  back  sitting- 
room,"  where  an  open  fire  invited  to  stories  and  games  of 
the  quieter  sort.  Some  of  the  girls  sat  in  chairs,  though 
most  joined  the  men  on  the  hearth. 

Carroll  Bishop,  however,  seemed  possessed  of  a  spirit 
of  restlessness.  The  place  seemed  to  interest  her.  She  wan- 
dered here  and  there  in  the  room,  looking  now  at  the  wal- 


THE   RIVERMAN  123 

nut-framed  photograph  of  Uncle  Jim  Orde,  now  at  the 
great  pink  conch  shells  either  side  the  door,  now  at  the 
marble-topped  table  with  its  square  paper-weight  of  pol- 
ished agate  and  its  glass  "  bell,"  beneath  which  stood  a  very 
life-like  robin.  This  "  back  sitting-room  "  contained  little  in 
the  way  of  ornament.  It  was  filled,  on  the  contrary,  with 
old  comfortable  chairs,  and  worn  calf-backed  books.  The 
girl  peered  at  the  titles  of  these;  but  the  gas-jets  had  been 
turned  low  in  favour  of  the  firelight,  and  she  had  to  give 
over  the  effort  to  identify  the  volumes.  Once  she  wandered 
close  to  Grandma  Orde's  cushioned  wooden  rocker,  and 
passed  her  hand  lightly  over  the  old  lady's  shoulder. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  look  at  things  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It's 
so  dear  and  sweet  and  old  and  different  from  our  New 
York  homes." 

"  Look  all  you  want  to,  dearie,"  said  Grandma  Orde. 

After  a  moment  she  passed  into  the  dining-room.  Here 
Orde  found  her,  her  hands  linked  in  front  of  her. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  quaint  and  delightful,"  she  exhaled  slowly. 
"  This  dear,  dear  old  house  with  its  low  ceilings  and  its 
queer  haphazard  lines,  and  its  deep  windows,  and  its  old 
pictures,  and  queer  unexpected  things  that  take  your  breath 
away." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  houses  in  town,"  said  Orde,  "  and 
I  suppose  it  is  picturesque.  But,  you  see,  I  was  brought  up 
here,  so  I'm  used  to  it." 

"  Wait  until  you  leave  it,"  said  she  prophetically,  "  and 
live  away  from  it.  Then  all  these  things  will  come  back 
to  you  to  make  your  heart  ache  for  them." 

They  rambled  about  together,  Orde's  enthusiasm  gradu- 
ally kindling  at  the  flame  of  her  own.  He  showed  her  the 
marvellous  and  painstaking  pencil  sketch  of  Napoleon 
looking  out  over  a  maltese-cross  sunset  done  by  Aunt 
Martha  at  the  age  of  ten.  It  hung  framed  in  the  upper 
hall. 


124  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  It  has  always  been  there,  ever  since  I  can  remember," 
said  Orde,  "  and  it  has  seemed  to  belong  there.  I've  never 
thought  of  it  as  good  or  bad,  just  as  belonging." 

"  I  know,"  she  nodded. 

In  this  spirit  also  they  viewed  the  plaster  statue  of  Wash- 
ington in  the  lower  hall,  and  the  Roger's  group  in  the  par- 
lour. The  glass  cabinet  of  "  curiosities "  interested  her 
greatly — the  carved  ivory  chessmen,  the  dried  sea-weeds, 
the  stone  from  Sugar  Loaf  Rock,  the  bit  from  the  wreck 
of  the  North  Star,  the  gold  and  silver  shells,  the  glittering 
geodes  and  pyrites,  the  sandal-wood  fan,  and  all  the  hun- 
dred and  one  knick-knacks  it  was  then  the  custom  to  col- 
lect under  glass.  They  even  ventured  part  way  up  the 
creaky  attic  stairs,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  enter  that  mys- 
terious region. 

"  I  hear  the  drip  of  water,"  she  whispered,  her  finger  on 
her  lips. 

"  It's  the  tank,"  said  Orde. 

"  And  has  it  a  Dark  Place  behind  it  ?  "  she  begged. 

"  That's  just  what  it  has,"  said  he. 

"And — tell  me — are  there  real  hair  trunks  with  brass 
knobs  on  'em  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother  has  two  or  three." 

"  O-o-h !  "  she  breathed  softly.  "  Don't  tell  me  what's  in 
them.  I  want  to  believe  in  brocades  and  sashes.  Do  you 
know,"  she  looked  at  him  soberly,  "  I  never  had  any  dark 
places  behind  the  tank,  nor  mysterious  trunks,  when  I  was 
a  child." 

"You  might  begin  now,"  suggested  Orde. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  I  haven't  grown  up  ?  "  she 
mocked.  "Thank  you!  Look  out!"  she  cried  suddenly, 
"  the  Boojum  will  catch  us,"  and  picking  up  her  skirts  she 
fairly  flew  down  the  narrow  stairs.  Orde  could  hear  the 
light  swish  of  her  draperies  down  the  hall,  and  then  the 
pat  of  her  feet  on  the  stair  carpet  of  the  lower  flight. 


THE   RIVERMAN  125 

He  followed  rather  dreamily.  A  glance  into  the  sitting- 
room  showed  the  group  gathered  close  around  the  fire  lis- 
tening to  Lem  Collin's  attempt  at  a  ghost  story.  She  was 
not  there.  He  found  her,  then,  in  the  parlour.  She  was 
kneeling  on  the  floor  before  the  glass  cabinet  of  curiosities, 
and  she  had  quite  flattened  her  little  nose  against  the  pane. 
At  his  exclamation  she  looked  up  with  a  laugh. 

"  This  is  the  proper  altitude  from  which  to  view  a  cabinet 
of  Curiosities,"  said  she,  "  and  something  tells  me  you  ought 
to  flatten  your  nose,  too."  She  held  out  both  hands  to 
be  helped  up.  "  Oh,  what  a  house  for  a  child !  "  she  cried. 

After  the  company  had  gone,  Orde  stood  long  by  the 
front  gate  looking  up  into  the  infinite  spaces.  Somehow, 
and  vaguely,  he  felt  the  night  to  be  akin  to  her  elusive 
spirit.  Farther  and  farther  his  soul  penetrated  into  its 
depths;  and  yet  other  depths  lay  beyond,  other  mysteries, 
other  unguessed  realms.  And  yet  its  beauty  was  the  sim- 
plicity of  space  and  dark  and  the  stars. 

The  next  ture  he  saw  her  was  at  her  own  house — or 
rather  the  house  of  the  friend  she  visite' .  Orde  went  to 
call  on  Friday  evening  and  was  lucky  enough  to  find  the 
girls  home  and  alone.  After  a  decent  interval  Jane  made 
an  excuse  and  went  out.  They  talked  on  a  great  variety 
of  subjects,  and  with  a  considerable  approach  toward  in- 
timacy. Not  until  nearly  time  to  go  did  Orde  stumble  upon 
the  vital  point  of  the  evening.  He  had  said  something  about 
a  plan  for  the  week  following. 

"  But  you  forget  that  by  that  time  I  shall  be  gone,"  said 
she. 

"  Gone !  "  he  echoed  blankly.  "  Where  ?  " 

"  Home,"  said  she.  "  Don't  you  remember  I  am  to  go 
Sunday  morning  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  stay  a  month." 

"  I  was,  but  I — certain  things  came  up  that  made  it  neces- 
sary for  me  to  leave  sooner." 


126  THE   RI  VERM  AN 

"  I — I'm  sorry  you're  going,"  stammered  Orde. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  she.  "  I've  had  a  very  nice  time 
here." 

"  Then  I  won't  see  you  again,"  said  Orde,  still  groping 
for  realisation.  "  I  must  go  to  Monrovia  to-morrow.  But 
I'll  be  down  to  see  you  off." 

"  Do  come,"  said  she. 

"  It's  not  to  be  for  good  ?  "  he  expostulated.  "  You'll  be 
coming  back." 

She  threw  her  hands  palm  out,  with  a  pretty  gesture  oi 
ignorance. 

"  That  is  in  the  lap  of  the  gods,"  said  she. 

"  Will  you  write  me  occasionally  ?  "  he  begged. 

"  As  to  that — "  she  began — "  I'm  a  very  poor  corre- 
spondent." 

"  But  won't  you  write  ?  "  he  insisted. 

"  I  do  not  make  it  a  custom  to  write  to  young  men." 

"  Oh !  "  he  cried,  believing  himself  enlightened.  "  Will 
you  answer  if  I  write  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends." 

"On  what?" 

"  On  whether  there  is  a  reply  to  make." 

"  But  may  I  write  you  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  couldn't  very  well  prevent  you,  if  you  were 
sure  to  put  on  a  three-cent  stamp." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  ?  "  persisted  Orde. 

She  began  gently  to  laugh,  quite  to  herself,  as  though 
enjoying  a  joke  entirely  within  her  own  personal  privilege. 

"  You  are  so  direct  and  persistent  and  boy-like,"  said 
she  presently.  "  Now  if  you'll  be  very  good,  and  not  whis- 
per to  the  other  little  pupils,  I'll  tell  you  how  they  do  such 
things  usually."  She  sat  up  straight  from  the  depths  of 
her  chair,  her  white,  delicately  tapering  forearms  resting 
lightly  on  her  knees.  "  Young  men  desiring  to  communicate 
with  young  ladies  do  not  ask  them  bluntly.  They  snake 


THE    RIVERMAN  127 

some  excuse,  like  sending  a  book,  a  magazine,  a  marked 
newspaper,  or  even  a  bit  of  desired  information.  At  the 
same  time,  they  send  notes  informing  the  girl  of  the  fact 
The  girl  is  naturally  expected  to  acknowledge  the  polite- 
ness. If  she  wishes  the  correspondence  to  continue,  she 
asks  a  question,  or  in  some  other  way  leaves  an  opening. 
Do  you  see?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Orde,  slightly  crestfallen.  "  But  that's 
a  long  time  to  wait.  I  like  to  feel  settled  about  a  thing. 
I  wanted  to  know." 

She  dropped  back  against  the  cushioned  slan<:  of  her- 
easy  chair,  and  laughed  again. 

"  And  so  you  just  up  and  asked !  "  she  teased. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  was  rude,"  he  said  humbly. 

The  laughter  died  slowly  from  her  eyes. 

"  Don't,"  she  said.  "  It  would  be  asking  pardon  for  being 
yourself.  You  wanted  to  know:  so  you  asked.  And  I'm 
going  to  answer.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  correspond  with 
you  and  tell  you  about  my  sort  of  things,  if  you  happen 
to  be  interested  in  them.  I  warn  you:  they  are  not  very 
exciting." 

"  They  are  yours,"  said  he. 

She  half  rose  to  bow  in  mock  graciousness,  caught  her- 
self, and  sank  back. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  she  said,  more  than  half  to  herself.  She 
sat  brooding  for  a  moment;  then  suddenly  her  mood 
changed.  She  sprang  up,  shook  her  skirts  free,  and  seated 
herself  at  the  piano.  To  Orde,  who  had  also  arisen,  she 
made  a  quaint  grimace  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Admire  your  handiwork ! "  she  told  him.  "  You  are 
rapidly  bringing  me  to  '  tell  the  truth  and  shame  the 
devil.'  Oh,  he  must  be  dying  of  mortification  this  evening !  " 
She  struck  a  great  crashing  chord,  holding  the  keys  while 
the  strings  reverberated  and  echoed  down  slowly  into 
silence  again,  "  It  isn't  fair,"  she  went  on,  "  for  you  big 


128  THE   RIVERMAN 

simple  men  to  disarm  us.  I  don't  care!  I  have  my  private 
opinion  of  such  brute  strength.  Je  me  moque!" 

She  wrinkled  her  nose  and  narrowed  her  eyes.  Then 
ruthlessly  she  drowned  his  reply  in  a  torrent  of  music. 
Like  mad  she  played,  rocking  her  slender  body  back  and 
forth  along  the  key-board;  holding  rigid  her  fingers,  her 
hands,  and  the  muscles  of  her  arms.  The  bass  notes  roared 
like  the  rumbling  of  thunder;  the  treble  flashed  like  the 
dart  of  lightnings.  Abruptly  she  muted  the  instrument. 
Silence  fell  as  something  that  had  been  pent  and  suddenly 
released.  She  arose  from  the  piano  stool  quite  naturally, 
both  hands  at  her  hair. 

"Aren't  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hubbard  dear  old  people?"  said 
she. 

"What  is  your  address  in  New  York?"  demanded  Orde. 

She  sank  into  a  chair  nearby  with  a  pretty  uplifted 
gesture  of  despair. 

"  I  surrender ! "  she  cried,  and  then  she  laughed  until 
the  tears  started  from  her  eyes  and  she  had  to  brush  them 
away  with  what  seemed  to  Orde  an  absurd  affair  to  call 
a  handkerchief.  "  Oh,  you  are  delicious ! "  she  said  at  last. 
"  Well,  listen.  I  live  at  12  West  Ninth  Street.  Can  you 
remember  that  ?  "  Orde  nodded.  "  And  now  any  other  ques- 
tions the  prisoner  can  reply  to  without  incriminating  her- 
self, she  is  willing  to  answer."  She  folded  her  hands  de- 
murely in  her  lap. 

Two  days  later  Orde  saw  the  train  carry  her  away.  He 
watched  the  rear  car  disappear  between  the  downward 
slopes  of  two  hills,  and  then  finally  the  last  smoke  from  the 
locomotive  dissipate  in  the  clear  blue. 

Declining  Jane's  kindly  meant  offer  of  a  lift,  he  walked 
back  to  town.  .  > 


XV 

THE  new  firm  plunged  busily  into  its  more  pressing 
activities.  Orde  especially  had  an  infinitude  of  de- 
tails on  his  hands.  The  fat  note-book  in  his  side 
pocket  filled  rapidly  with  rough  sketches,  lists,  and  esti- 
mates. Constantly  he  interviewed  men  of  all  kinds — river- 
men,  mill  men,  contractors,  boat  builders,  hardware  deal- 
ers, pile-driver  captains,  builders,  wholesale  grocery  men, 
cooks,  axe-men,  chore  boys — all  a  little  world  in  itself. 

The  signs  of  progress  soon  manifested  themselves.  Be- 
low Big  Bend  the  pile-drivers  were  at  work,  the  square 
masses  of  their  hammers  rising  rapidly  to  the  tops  of  the 
derricks,  there  to  pause  a  moment  before  dropping  swiftly 
to  a  dull  thump!  They  were  placing  a  long,  compact  row, 
which  should  be  the  outer  bulwarks  separating  the  sort- 
ing-booms from  the  channel  of  the  river.  Ashore  the  car- 
penters were  knocking  together  a  long,  low  structure  for 
the  cook-house  and  a  larger  building,  destined  to  serve  as 
bunk-house  for  the  regular  boom-crew.  There  would  also 
be  a  blacksmith's  forge,  a  storehouse,  a  tool  and  supply- 
house,  a  barn,  and  small  separate  shanties  for  the  married 
men.  Below  more  labourers  with  picks,  shovels,  axes,  and 
scrapers  were  cutting  out  and  levelling  a  road  which  would, 
when  finished,  meet  the  county  road  to  town.  The  numerous 
bayous  of  great  marsh  were  crossed  by  "  float-bridges," 
lying  flat  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  which  spurted  up  in 
rhythmical  little  jets  under  the  impact  of  hoofs.  Down 
stream  eight  miles,  below  the  mills,  and  just  beyond  where 
the  drawbridge  crossed  over  to  Monrovia,  Duncan  Mc- 

129 


130  THE   RIVERMAN 

Leod's  shipyards  clipped  and  sawed,  and  steamed  and  bent 
and  bolted  away  at  two  tugboats,  the  machinery  for  which 
was  already  being  stowed  in  the  hold  of  a  vessel  lying  at 
wharf  in  Chicago.  In  the  storerooms  of  hardware  firms 
porters  carried  and  clerks  checked  off  chains,  strap  iron, 
bolts,  spikes,  staples,  band  iron,  bar  iron,  peavies,  cant- 
hooks,  pike-poles,  sledge-hammers,  blocks,  ropes,  and 
cables. 

These  things  took  time  and  attention  to  details ;  also  a 
careful  supervision.  The  spring  increased,  burst  into  leaf 
and  bloom,  and  settled  into  summer.  Orde  was  constantly 
on  the  move.  As  soon  as  low  water  came  with  midsum- 
mer, however,  he  arranged  matters  to  run  themselves  as 
far  as  possible,  left  with  Newmark  minute  instructions 
as  to  personal  supervision,  and  himself  departed  to  Red- 
ding. Here  he  joined  a  crew  which  Tom  North  had  already 
collected,  and  betook  himself  to  the  head  of  the  river. 

He  knew  exactly  what  he  intended  to  do.  Far  back  on 
the  head-waters  he  built  a  dam.  The  construction  of  it  was 
crude,  consisting  merely  of  log  cribs  filled  with  stone  and 
debris  placed  at  intervals  across  the  bed  of  the  stream, 
against  which  slanted  logs  made  a  face.  The  gate  operated 
simply,  and  could  be  raised  to  let  loose  an  entire  flood. 
And  indeed  this  was  the  whole  purpose  of  the  dam.  It 
created  a  reservoir  from  which  could  be  freed  new  sup- 
plies of  water  to  eke  out  the  dropping  spring  freshets. 

Having  accomplished  this  formidable  labour — for  the 
trees  had  to  be  cut  and  hauled,  the  stone  carted,  and  the 
earth  shovelled — the  crew  next  moved  down  a  good  ten 
miles  to  where  the  river  dropped  over  a  rapids  rough  and 
full  of  boulders.  Here  were  built  and  placed  a  row  of  stone- 
filled  log  cribs  in  a  double  row  down  stream  to  define  the 
channel  and  to  hold  the  drive  in  it  and  away  from  the 
shallows  near  either  bank.  The  profile  of  these  cribs  was 
that  of  a  right-angled  triangle,  the  slanting  side  up  stream. 


THE    RI  VERM  AN  131 

Booms  chained  between  them  helped  deflect  the  drive  from 
the  shoals.  Their  more  important  office,  however,  was  to 
give  footing  to  the  drivers. 

For  twenty-five  miles  then  nothing  of  importance  was 
undertaken.  Two  or  three  particularly  bad  boulders  were 
split  out  by  the  explosion  of  powder  charges;  a  number 
of  snags  and  old  trees  were  cut  away  and  disposed  of ;  the 
channel  was  carefully  examined  for  obstructions  of  any 
kind  whatever.  Then  the  party  came  to  the  falls. 

Here  Orde  purposed  his  most  elaborate  bit  of  rough  en- 
gineering. The  falls  were  only  about  fifteen  feet  high,  but 
they  fell  straight  down  to  a  bed  of  sheer  rock.  This  had 
been  eaten  by  the  eddies  into  pot-holes  and  crannies  until 
a  jagged  irregular  scoop-hollow  had  formed  immediately 
underneath  the  fall.  Naturally  this  implied  a  ledge  below. 

In  flood  time  the  water  boiled  and  roared  through  this 
obstruction  in  a  torrent.  The  saw  logs,  caught  in  the  rush, 
plunged  end  on  into  the  scoop-hollow,  hit  with  a  crash,  and 
were  spewed  out  below  more  or  less  battered,  barked,  and 
stripped.  Sometimes,  however,  when  the  chance  of  the 
drive  brought  down  a  hundred  logs  together,  they  failed 
to  shoot  over  the  barrier  of  the  ledge.  Then  followed  a 
jam,  a  bad  jam,  difficult  and  dangerous  to  break.  The 
falls  had  taken  her  usurious  share  of  the  lives  the  river 
annually  demands  as  her  toll. 

This  condition  of  affairs  Orde  had  determined,  if  pos- 
sible, to  obviate.  From  the  thirty-five  or  forty  miles  of 
river  that  lay  above,  and  from  its  tributaries  would  come 
the  bulk  of  the  white  and  Norway  pine  for  years  to  fol- 
low. At  least  two  thirds  of  each  drive  Orde  figured  would 
come  from  above  the  fall. 

"  If,"  said  he  to  North,  "we  could  carry  an  apron  on  a 
slant  from  just  under  the  crest  and  over  the  pot-holes,  it 
would  shoot  both  the  water  and  the  logs  off  a  better  angle." 

"  Sure,"   agreed   North,   "  but   you'll   have   fun  placing 


132  THE   RIVERMAN 

your  apron  with  all  that  water  running  through.  Why,  it 
would  drown  us !  " 

"  I've  got  a  notion  on  that,"  said  Orde.  "  First  thing  is 
to  get  the  material  together." 

A  hardwood  forest  topped  the  slope.  Into  this  went  the 
axe-men.  The  straightest  trees  they  felled,  trimmed,  and 
dragged,  down  travoy  trails  they  constructed,  on  sleds  they 
built  for  the  purpose,  to  the  banks  of  the  river.  Here  they 
bored  the  two  holes  through  either  end  to  receive  the  bolts 
when  later  they  should  be  locked  together  side  by  side  in 
their  places.  As  fast  as  they  were  prepared,  men  with  cant- 
hooks  rolled  them  down  the  slope  to  a  flat  below  the  falls. 
They  did  these  things  swiftly  and  well,  because  they  were 
part  of  the  practised  day's  work,  but  they  shook  their  heads 
at  the  falls. 

After  the  trees  had  been  cut  in  sufficient  number — there 
were  seventy-five  of  them,  each  twenty-six  feet  long — Orde 
led  the  way  back  up  stream  a  half  mile  to  a  shallows, 
where  he  commanded  the  construction  of  a  number  of  ex- 
aggerated sawhorses  with  very  widespread  slanting  legs. 
In  the  meantime  the  cook-wagon  and  the  bed-wagon  had 
evidently  been  making  many  trips  to  Sand  Creek,  fifteen 
miles  away,  as  was  attested  by  a  large  pile  of  heavy  planks. 
When  the  sawhorses  were  completed,  Orde  directed  the 
picks  and  shovels  to  be  brought  up. 

At  this  point  the  river,  as  has  been  hinted,  widened  over 
bhoals.  The  banks  at  either  hand,  too,  were  flat  and  com- 
paratively low.  As  is  often  the  case  in  bends  of  rivers  sub- 
ject to  annual  floods,  the  banks  sloped  back  for  some  dis- 
tance into  a  lower  black-ash  swamp  territory. 

Orde  set  his  men  to  digging  a  channel  through  this 
bank.  It  was  no  slight  job,  from  one  point  of  view,  as  the 
slope  down  into  the  swamp  began  only  at  a  point  forty 
or  fifty  feet  inland;  but  on  the  other  hand  the  earth  was 
soft  and  free  from  rocks.  When  completed  the  channel 


THE    RIVERMAN  133 

gave  passage  to  a  rather  feeble  streamlet  from  the  outer 
fringe  of  the  river.  The  men  were  puzzled,  but  Orde,  by 
the  strange  freak  of  his  otherwise  frank  and  open  nature, 
as  usual  told  nothing  of  his  plans,  even  to  Tom  North. 

"  He  can't  expect  to  turn  that  river,"  said  Tim  Nolan, 
who  was  once  more  with  the  crew.  "  He'd  have  to  dig  a 
long  ways  below  that  level  to  catch  the  main  current — 
and  then  some." 

"  Let  him  alone,"  advised  North,  puffing  at  his  short 
pipe.  "  He's  wiser  than  a  tree  full  of  owls." 

Next  Orde  assigned  two  men  to  each  of  the  queer-shaped 
sawhorses,  and  instructed  them  to  place  the  horses  in  a 
row  across  the  shallowest  part  of  the  river,  and  broadside 
to  the  stream.  This  was  done.  The  men,  half-way  to  their 
knees  in  the  swift  water,  bore  down  heavily  to  keep  their 
charges  in  place.  Other  men  immediately  began  to  lay  the 
heavy  planks  side  by  side,  perpendicular  to  and  on  the 
up-stream  side  of  the  horses.  The  weight  of  the  water 
clamped  them  in  place ;  big  rocks  and  gravel  shovelled  on 
in  quantity  prevented  the  lower  ends  from  rising;  the  wide 
slant  of  the  legs  directed  the  pressure  so  far  downward 
that  the  horses  were  prevented  from  floating  away.  And 
slowly  the  bulk  of  the  water,  thus  raised  a  good  three 
feet  above  its  former  level,  turned  aside  into  the  new  chan- 
nel and  poured  out  to  inundate  the  black-ash  swamp  be- 
yond. 

A  good  volume  still  poured  over  the  top  of  the  tem- 
porary dam  and  down  to  the  fall;  but  it  was  by  this 
expedient  so  far  reduced  that  work  became  possible. 

"  Now,  boys !  "  cried  Orde.  "  Lively,  while  we've  got  the 
chance ! " 

By  means  of  blocks  and  tackles  and  the  team  horses  the 
twenty-six-foot  logs  were  placed  side  by  side,  slanting 
from  a  point  two  feet  below  the  rim  of  the  fall  to  the 
ledge  below.  They  were  bolted  together  top  and  bottom 


134  THE    RIVERMAN 

through  the  four  holes  bored  for  that  purpose.  This  was 
a  confusing  and  wet  business.  Sufficient  water  still  flowed 
in  the  natural  channel  of  the  river  to  dash  in  spray  over 
the  entire  work.  Men  toiled,  wet  to  the  skin,  their  gar- 
ments clinging  to  them,  their  eyes  full  of  water,  barely 
able  to  breathe,  yet  groping  doggedly  at  it,  and  arriving 
at  last.  The  weather  was  warm  with  the  midsummer.  They 
made  a  joke  of  the  difficulty,  and  found  inexhaustible 
humour  in  the  fact  that  one  of  their  number  was  an  Im- 
mersion Baptist.  When  the  task  was  finished,  they  pried 
the  flash-boards  from  the  improvised  dam;  piled  them 
neatly  beyond  reach  of  high  water;  rescued  the  sawhorses 
and  piled  them  also  for  a  possible  future  use;  blocked  the 
temporary  channel  with  a  tree  or  so — and  earth.  The  river, 
restored  to  its  immemorial  channel  by  these  men  who  had 
so  nonchalantly  turned  it  aside,  roared  on,  singing  again 
the  song  it  had  until  now  sung  uninterruptedly  for  centuries. 
Orde  and  his  crew  tramped  back  to  the  falls,  and  gazed  on 
their  handiwork  with  satisfaction.  Instead  of  plunging  over 
an  edge  into  a  turmoil  of  foam  and  eddies,  now  the  water 
flowed  smoothly,  almost  without  a  break,  over  an  incline  of 
thirty  degrees. 

"  Logs'll  slip  over  that  slick  as  a  gun  barrel,"  said  Tom 
North.  "  How  long  do  you  think  she'll  last  ?  " 

"  Haven't  an  idea,"  replied  Orde.  "  We  may  have  to  do 
it  again  next  summer,  but  I  don't  think  it.  There's  nothing 
but  the  smooth  of  the  water  to  wear  those  logs  until  they 
begin  to  rot." 

Quite  cheerfully  they  cook  up  their  long,  painstaking 
journey  back  down  the  river. 

Travel  down  the  river  was  at  times  very  pleasant,  and 
at  times  very  disagreeable.  The  ground  had  now  hardened 
so  that  a  wanigan  boat  was  unnecessary.  Instead,  the  camp 
outfit  was  transported  in  waggons,  which  often  had  to 
journey  far  inland,  to  make  extraordinary  detours,  but 


THE   RIVERMAN  135 

which  always  arrived  somehow  at  the  various  camping 
places.  Orde  and  his  men,  of  course,  took  the  river  trail. 

The  river  trail  ran  almost  unbroken  for  over  a  hundred 
miles  of  meandering  way.  It  climbed  up  the  high  banks  at 
the  points,  it  crossed  the  bluffs  along  their  sheer  edges,  it 
descended  to  the  thickets  in  the  flats,  it  crossed  the  swamps 
on  pole-trails,  it  skirted  the  great,  solemn  woods.  Some- 
times, in  the  lower  reaches,  its  continuity  was  broken  by  a 
town,  but  always  after  it  recovered  from  its  confusion  it 
led  on  with  purpose  unvarying.  Never  did  it  desert  for  long 
the  river.  The  cool,  green  still  reaches,  or  the  tumbling  of 
the  white-water,  were  always  within  its  sight,  sometimes 
beneath  its  very  tread.  When  occasionally  it  cut  in  across 
a  very  long  bend,  it  always  sent  from  itself  a  little  tributary 
trail  which  traced  all  the  curves,  and  returned  at  last  to  its 
parent,  undoubtedly  with  a  full  report  of  its  task.  And  the 
trail  was  beaten  hard  by  the  feet  of  countless  men,  who, 
like  Orde  and  his  crew,  had  taken  grave,  interested  charge 
of  the  river  from  her  birth  to  her  final  rest  in  the  great  ex- 
panses of  the  Lake.  It  is  there  to-day,  although  the  life  that 
brought  it  into  being  has  been  gone  from  it  these  many 
years. 

In  midsummer  Orde  found  the  river  trail  most  un- 
familiar in  appearance.  Hardly  did  he  recognise  it  in  some 
places.  It  possessed  a  wide,  leisurely  expansiveness,  an  in- 
dolent luxury,  a  lazy  invitation  born  of  broad  green  leaves, 
deep  and  mysterious  shadows,  the  growth  of  ferns,  docks, 
and  the  like  cool  in  the  shade  of  the  forest,  the  shimmer  of 
aspens  and  poplars  through  the  heat,  the  green  of  tangling 
vines,  the  drone  of  insects,  the  low-voiced  call  of  birds,  the 
opulent  splashing  of  sun-gold  through  the  woods,  quite 
lacking  to  the  hard,  tight  season  in  which  his  river  work 
was  usually  performed.  What,  in  the  early  year,  had  been 
merely  a  whip  of  brush,  now  had  become  a  screen  through 
whose  waving,  shifting  interstices  he  caught  glimpses  of 


-136  THE   RIVERMAN 

the  river  flowing  green  and  cool.  What  had  been  bare  tim- 
ber amongst  whose  twigs  and  branches  the  full  daylight 
had  shone  unobstructed,  now  had  clothed  itself  in  foliage 
and  leaned  over  to  make  black  and  mysterious  the  water 
that  flowed  beneath.  Countless  insects  hovered  over  the 
polished  surface  of  that  water.  Dragon-flies  cruised  about. 
Little  birds  swooped  silently  down  and  fluttered  back,  in- 
tent on  their  tiny  prey.  Water-bugs  skated  hither  and 
thither  in  apparently  purposeless  diagonals.  Once  in  a  great 
while  the  black  depths  were  stirred.  A  bass  rolled  lazily 
t»ver,  carrying  with  him  his  captured  insect,  leaving  on  the 
surface  of  the  water  concentric  rings  which  widened  and 
died  away. 

The  trail  led  the  crew  through  many  minor  labours,  all 
of  which  consumed  time.  At  Reed's  Mill  Orde  entered  into 
diplomatic  negotiations  with  Old  Man  Reed,  whom  he 
found  singularly  amenable.  The  skirmish  in  the  spring 
seemed  to  have  taken  all  the  fight  out  of  him;  or  perhaps, 
more  simply,  Orde's  attitude  toward  him  at  that  time  had 
won  him  over  to  the  young  man's  side.  At  any  rate,  as 
soon  as  he  understood  that  Orde  was  now  in  business 
for  himself,  he  readily  came  to  an  agreement.  Thereupon 
Orde's  crew  built  a  new  sluiceway  and  gate  far  enough 
down  to  assure  a  good  head  in  the  pond  above.  Other  dam 
owners  farther  down  the  stream  also  signed  agreements 
having  to  do  with  supplying  water  over  and  above  what 
the  law  required  of  them.  Above  one  particularly  shallow 
rapid  Orde  built  a  dam  of  his  own. 

All  this  took  time,  and  the  summer  months  slipped  away. 
Orde  had  fallen  into  the  wild  life  as  into  a  habit.  He  lived 
on  the  river  or  the  trail.  His  face  took  on  a  ruddier  hue 
than  ever ;  his  clothes  faded  to  a  nondescript  neutral  colour 
of  their  own;  his  hair  below  his  narrow  felt  hat  bleached 
three  shades.  He  did  his  work,  and  figured  on  his  schemes, 
and  smoked  his  pipe,  and  occasionally  took  little  trips  to 


THE    RIVERMAN  137 

the  nearest  town,  where  he  spent  the  day  at  "he  hotel  desks 
reading  and  answering  his  letters.  The  weather  was  gen- 
erally very  warm.  Thunder-storms  were  not  infrequent. 
Until  the  latter  part  of  August,  mosquitoes  and  black  flies 
were  bad. 

About  the  middle  of  September  the  crew  had  worked 
down  as  far  as  Redding,  leaving  behind  them  a  river 
tamed,  groomed,  and  harnessed  for  their  uses.  Remained 
still  the  forty  miles  between  Redding  and  the  Lake  to  be 
improved.  As,  however,  navigation  for  light  draught  ves- 
sels extended  as  far  as  that  city,  Orde  here  paid  off  his 
men.  A  few  days'  work  with  a  pile  driver  would  fence  the 
principal  shoals  from  the  channel. 

He  stayed  over  night  with  his  parents,  and  at  once  took 
the  train  for  Monrovia.  There  he  made  his  way  immedi- 
ately to  the  little  office  the  new  firm  had  rented.  Newmark 
had  just  come  down. 

"  Hullo,  Joe,"  greeted  Orde,  his  teeth  flashing  in  con- 
trast to  the  tan  of  his  face.  "  I'm  done.  Anything  new  since 
you  wrote  last  ?  " 

Newmark  had  acquired  his  articles  of  incorporation  and 
sold  his  stock.  How  many  excursions,  demonstrations, 
representations,  and  arguments  that  implied,  only  one  who 
has  undertaken  the  floating  of  a  new  and  untried  scheme  can 
imagine.  Perhaps  his  task  had  in  it  as  much  of  difficulty 
as  Orde's  taming  of  the  river.  Certainly  he  carried  it  to  as 
successful  a  conclusion.  The  bulk  of  the  stock  he  sold  to 
the  log-owners  themselves;  the  rest  he  scattered  here  and 
there  and  everywhere  in  small  lots,  as  he  was  able.  Some 
five  hundred  and  thousand  dollar  blocks  even  went  to 
Chicago.  His  own  little  fortune  of  twenty  thousand  he  paid 
in  for  the  shares  that  represented  his  half  of  the  majority 
retained  by  himself  and  Orde.  The  latter  gave  a  note  at 
ten  per  cent  for  his  proportion  of  the  stock.  Newmark  then 
borrowed  fifteen  thousand  more,  giving  as  security  a  mort- 


138  THE    RIVERMAN 

gage  on  the  company's  newly  acquired  property — the  tugs, 
booms,  buildings,  and  real  estate.  Thus  was  the  financing 
determined.  It  left  the  company  with  obligations  of  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  a  year  in  interest,  expenses  which  would 
run  heavily  into  the  thousands,  arid  an  obligation  to  make 
good  outside  stock  worth  at  par  exactly  forty-nine  thou- 
sand dollars.  In  addition,  Orde  had  charged  against  his  ac- 
count a  burden  of  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  interest  on 
his  personal  debt.  To  offset  these  liabilities — outside  the 
river  improvements  and  equipments,  which  would  hold  little 
or  no  value  in  case  of  failure — the  firm  held  contracts  to 
deliver  about  one  hundred  million  feet  of  logs.  After  some 
discussion  the  partners  decided  to  allow  themselves  twenty- 
five  hundred  dollars  apiece  by  way  of  salary. 

"  If  we  don't  make  any  dividends  at  first,"  Orde  pointed 
out,  "  I've  got  to  keep  even  on  my  interest." 

"  You  can't  live  on  five  hundred,"  objected  Newmark. 

"  I'll  be  on  the  river  and  at  the  booms  six  months  of  the 
year,"  replied  Orde,  "  and  I  can't  spend  much  there." 

"  I'm  satisfied,"  said  Newmark  thoughtfully,  "  I'm  get- 
ting a  little  better  than  good  interest  on  my  own  invest- 
ment from  the  start.  And  in  a  few  years  after  we've  paid 
up,  there'll  be  mighty  big  money  in  it." 

He  removed  his  glasses  and  tapped  his  palm  with  their 
edge. 

"  The  only  point  that  is  at  all  risky  to  me,"  said  he,  "  is 
that  we  have  only  one-season  contracts.  If  for  any  reason 
we  hang  up  the  drive,  or  fail  to  deliver  promptly,  we're 
going  to  get  left  the  year  following.  And  then  it's  B-U-S-T, 
bust." 

"  Well,  we'll  just  try  not  to  hang  her,"  replied  Orde. 


XVI 

ORDE'S  bank  account,  in  spite  of  his  laughing  asser- 
tion to  Newmark,  contained  some  eleven  hundred 
dollars.  After  a  brief  but  comprehensive  tour  of  in- 
spection over  all  the  works  then  forward,  he  drew  a  hun- 
dred of  this  and  announced  to  Newmark  that  business  would 
take  him  away  for  about  two  weeks. 

"  I  have  some  private  affairs  to  attend  to  before  set- 
tling down  to  business  for  keeps,"  he  told  Newmark 
vaguely. 

At  Redding,  whither  he  went  to  pack  his  little  sole- 
leather  trunk,  he  told  Grandma  Orde  the  same  thing.  She 
said  nothing  at  the  time,  but  later,  when  Grandpa  Orde's 
slender  figure  had  departed,  very  courteous,  very  erect, 
very  dignified,  with  its  old  linen  duster  flapping  around  it, 
she  came  and  stood  by  the  man  leaning  over  the  trunk. 

"  Speak  to  her,  Jack,"  said  she  quietly.  "  She  cares  for 
you." 

Orde  looked  up  in  astonishment,  but  he  did  not  pretend 
to  deny  the  implied  accusation  as  to  his  destination. 

"  Why,  mother ! "  he  cried.  "  She's  only  seen  me  three 
or  four  times !  It's  absurd — yet." 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Grandma  Orde,  wisely.  "  I  know.  But 
you  mark  my  words;  she  cares  for  you." 

She  said  nothing  more,  but  stood  looking  while  Orde 
folded  and  laid  away,  his  head  bent  low  in  thought. 
Then  she  placed  her  hand  for  an  instant  on  his  shoul- 
der and  went  away.  The  Ordes  were  not  a  demonstrative 
people. 

139 


140  THE   RIVERMAN 

The  journey  to  New  York  was  at  that  time  very  long 
and  disagreeable,  but  Orde  bore  it  with  his  accustomed 
stoicism.  He  had  visited  the  metropolis  before,  so  it  was 
not  unfamiliar  to  him.  He  was  very  glad,  however,  to  get 
away  from  the  dust  and  monotony  of  the  railroad  train. 
The  September  twilight  was  just  falling.  Through  its  dusk 
the  street  lamps  were  popping  into  illumination  as  the  lamp- 
lighter made  his  rapid  way.  Orde  boarded  a  horse-car  and 
jingled  away  down  Fourth  Avenue.  He  was  pleased  at 
having  arrived,  and  stretched  his  legs  and  filled  his  lungs 
twice  with  so  evident  an  enjoyment  that  several  people 
smiled. 

His  comfort  was  soon  disturbed,  however,  by  an  influx 
of  people  boarding  the  car  at  Twenty-third  Street.  The 
seats  were  immediately  filled,  and  late  comers  found  them- 
selves obliged  to  stand  in  the  aisle.  Among  these  were  sev- 
eral women.  The  men  nearest  buried  themselves  in  the 
papers  after  the  almost  universal  metropolitan  custom.  Two 
or  three  arose  to  offer  their  seats,  among  them  Orde.  When, 
however,  the  latter  had  turned  to  indicate  to  one  of  the 
women  the  vacated  seat,  he  discovered  it  occupied  by  a 
chubby  and  flashily  dressed  youth  of  the  sort  common 
enough  in  the  vicinity  of  Fourteenth  Street;  impudent  of 
eye,  cynical  of  demeanour,  and  slightly  contemptuous  of 
everything  unaccustomed.  He  had  slipped  in  back  of  Orde 
when  that  young  man  arose,  whether  under  the  impression 
that  Orde  was  about  to  get  off  the  car  or  from  sheer  im- 
pudence, it  would  be  impossible  to  say. 

Orde  stared  at  him,  a  little  astonished. 

"  I  intended  that  seat  for  this  lady,"  said  Orde>  touching 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

The  youth  looked  up  coolly. 

"  You  don't  come  that !  "  said  he. 

Orde  wasted  no  time  in  discussion,  which  no  doubt  saved 
the  necessity  of  a  more  serious  disturbance.  He  reached 


THE   RIVERMAN  141 

over  suddenly,  seized  the  youth  by  the  collar,  braced  his 
knee  against  the  seat,  and  heaved  the  interloper  so  rapidly 
to  his  feet  that  he  all  but  plunged  forward  among  the  pas- 
sengers sitting  opposite. 

"  Your  seat,  madam,"  said  Orde. 

The  woman,  frightened,  unwilling  to  become  the  partici- 
pant of  a  scene  of  any  sort,  stood  looking  here  and  there. 
Orde,  comprehending  her  embarrassment,  twisted  his  an- 
tagonist about,  and,  before  he  could  recover  his  equilib- 
rium sufficiently  to  offer  resistance,  propelled  him  rapidly 
to  the  open  door,  the  passengers  hastily  making  way  for 
them. 

"  Now,  my  friend,"  said  Orde,  releasing  his  hold  on  the 
other's  collar,  "  don't  do  such  things  any  more.  They  aren't 
nice." 

Trivial  as  the  incident  was,  it  served  to  draw  Orde  to 
the  particular  notice  of  an  elderly  man  leaning  against  the 
rear  rail.  He  was  a  very  well-groomed  man,  dressed  in 
garments  whose  fit  was  evidently  the  product  of  the  highest 
art,  well  buttoned  up,  well  brushed,  well  cared  for  in  every 
way.  In  his  buttonhole  he  wore  a  pink  carnation,  and  in 
his  gloved  hand  he  carried  a  straight,  gold-headed  cane. 
A  silk  hat  covered  his  head,  from  beneath  which  showed  a 
slightly  empurpled  countenance,  with  bushy  white  eye- 
brows,  a  white  moustache,  and  a  pair  of  rather  bloodshot, 
but  kindly,  blue  eyes.  In  spite  of  his  somewhat  pudgy 
rotundity,  he  carried  himself  quite  erect,  in  a  manner  that 
bespoke  the  retired  military  man. 

"  You  have  courage,  sir,"  said  this  gentleman,  inclining 
his  head  gravely  to  Orde. 

The  young  man  laughed  in  his  good-humoured  fashion. 

"  Not  much  courage  required  to  root  out  that  kind  of  a 
skunk,"  said  he  cheerfully. 

"  I  refer  to  the  courage  of  your  convictions.  The  young 
men  of  this  generation  seem  to  prefer  to  avoid  public  dis- 


THE    RIVERMAN 

turbances.  That  breed  is  quite  capable  of  making  a  row, 
calling  the  police,  raising  the  deuce,  and  all  that." 

"What  of  it?  "said  Orde. 

The  elderly  gentleman  puffed  out  his  cheeks. 

"  You  are  from  the  West,  are  you  not  ? "  he  stated, 
rather  than  asked. 

"  We  call  it  the  East  out  there,"  said  Orde.  "  It's  Mich- 
igan." 

"  I  should  call  that  pi^tty  far  west,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

Nothing  more  was  said.  After  a  block  or  two  Orde  de- 
scended on  his  way  to  a  small  hotel  just  off  Broadway. 
The  old  gentleman  saluted.  Orde  nodded  good-humouredly. 
In  his  private  soul  he  was  a  little  amused  at  the  old  boy. 
To  his  view  a  man  and  clothes  carried  to  their  last  refine- 
ment were  contradictory  terms. 

Orde  ate,  dressed,  and  set  out  afoot  in  search  of  Miss 
Bishop's  address.  He  arrived  in  front  of  the  house  a  little 
past  eight  o'clock,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  mount- 
ed the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

The  door  swung  silently  back  to  frame  an  impassive 
man-servant  dressed  in  livery.  To  Orde's  inquiry  he  stated 
that  Miss  Bishop  had  gone  out  to  the  theatre.  The  young 
man  left  his  name  and  a  message  of  regret.  At  this  the  foot- 
man, with  an  irony  so  subtle  as  to  be  quite  lost  on  Orde, 
demanded  a  card.  Orde  scribbled  a  line  in  his  note-book, 
tore  it  out,  folded  it,  and  left  it.  In  it  he  stated  his  regret, 
his  short  residence  in  the  city,  and  desired  an  early  oppor- 
tunity to  call.  Then  he  departed  down  the  brownstone 
steps,  totally  unconscious  of  the  contempt  he  had  inspired 
in  the  heart  of  the  liveried  man  behind  him. 

He  retired  early  and  arose  early,  as  had  become  his  habit. 
When  he  descended  to  the  office  the  night  clerk,  who  had 
not  yet  been  relieved,  handed  him  a  note  delivered  the 
•ight  before.  Orde  ripped  it  open  eagerly. 


THE   RIVERMAN  143 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  ORDE  : 

"  I  was  so  sorry  to  miss  you  that  evening  because  of  a 
stupid  play.  Come  around  as  early  as  you  can  to-morrow 
morning.  I  shall  expect  you. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  CARROLL  BISHOP." 

Orde  glanced  at  the  clock,  which  pointed  to  seven.  He 
breakfasted,  read  the  morning  paper,  finally  started  leisure- 
ly in  the  direction  of  West  Ninth  Street.  He  walked  slowly, 
so  as  to  consume  more  time,  then  at  University  Place  was 
seized  with  a  panic,  and  hurried  rapidly  to  his  destination. 
The  door  was  answered  by  the  same  man  who  had  opened 
the  night  before,  but  now,  in  some  indefinable  way,  his 
calm,  while  flawless  externally,  seemed  to  have  lifted  to  a 
mere  surface,  as  though  he  might  hastily  have  assumed  his 
coat.  To  Orde's  inquiry  he  stated  with  great  brevity  that 
Miss  Bishop  was  not  yet  visible,  and  prepared  to  close  the 
door. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Orde,  with  equal  brevity,  and 
stepped  inside.  "  I  have  an  engagement  with  Miss  Bishop. 
Tell  her  Mr.  Orde  is  here." 

The  man  departed  in  some  doubt,  leaving  Orde  standing 
in  the  gloomy  hall.  That  young  man,  however,  quite  cheer- 
fully parted  the  heavy  curtains  leading  into  a  parlour,  and 
sat  down  in  a  spindle-legged  chair.  At  his  entrance,  a  maid 
disappeared  out  another  door,  carrying  with  her  the  im- 
plements of  dusting  and  brushing. 

Orde  looked  around  the  room  with  some  curiosity.  It 
was  long,  narrow,  and  very  high.  Tall  windows  admitted 
light  at  one  end.  The  illumination  was,  however,  modified 
greatly  by  hangings  of  lace  covering  all  the  windows,  sup- 
plemented by  heavy  draperies  drawn  back  to  either  side. 
The  embrasure  was  occupied  by  a  small  table,  over  which 


144  THE   RIVERMAN 

seemed  to  flutter  a  beautiful  marble  Psyche.  A  rubber 
plant,  then  as  now  the  mark  of  the  city  and  suburban 
dweller,  sent  aloft  its  spare,  shiny  leaves  alongside  a  closed 
square  piano.  The  lack  of  ornaments  atop  the  latter  be- 
spoke the  musician.  Through  the  filtered  gloom  of  the 
demi-light  Orde  surveyed  with  interest  the  excellent  re- 
productions of  the  Old  World  masterpieces  framed  on  the 
walls — "  Madonnas  "  by  Raphael,  Murillo,  and  Perugino, 
the  "Mona  Lisa,"  and  Botticelli's  "Spring"— the  three 
oil  portraits  occupying  the  large  spaces ;  the  spindle-legged 
chairs  and  tables,  the  tea  service  in  the  corner,  the  tall 
bronze  lamp  by  the  piano,  the  neat  little  grate-hearth,  with 
its  mantel  of  marble ;  the  ormolu  clock,  all  the  decorous  and 
decorated  gentility  which  marked  the  irreproachable  cor- 
rectness of  whoever  had  furnished  the  apartment.  Dark  and 
heavy  hangings  depended  in  front  of  a  double  door  leading 
into  another  room  beyond.  Equally  dark  and  heavy  hang- 
ings had  closed  behind  Orde  as  he  entered.  An  absolute  and 
shrouded  stillness  seemed  to  settle  down  upon  him.  The 
ormolu  clock  ticked  steadily.  Muffled  sounds  came  at  long 
intervals  from  behind  the  portieres.  Orde  began  to  feel  op- 
pressed and  subdued. 

For  quite  three  quarters  of  an  hour  he  waited  without 
hearing  any  other  indications  of  life  than  the  muffled 
sounds  just  remarked  upon.  Occasionally  he  shifted  his 
position,  but  cautiously,  as  though  he  feared  to  awaken 
some  one.  The  three  oil  portraits  stared  at  him  with  all  the 
reserved  aloofness  of  their  painted  eyes.  He  began  to  doubt 
whether  the  man  had  announced  him  at  all. 

Then,  breaking  the  stillness  with  almost  startling  abrupt- 
ness, he  heard  a  clear,  high  voice  saying  something  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs  outside.  A  rhythmical  swish  of  skirts,  punc- 
tuated by  the  light  pat-pat  of  a  girl  tripping  downstairs, 
brought  him  to  his  feet.  A  moment  later  the  curtains  parted 
and  she  entered,  holding  out  her  hand. 


THE   RIVERMAN  145 

"  Oh,  I  did  keep  you  waiting  such  a  long  time ! "  she 
cried. 

He  stood  holding  her  hand,  suddenly  unable  to  say  a 
word,  looking  at  her  hungrily.  A  flood  of  emotion,  of  which 
he  had  had  no  prevision,  swelled  up  within  him  to  fill  his 
throat.  An  almost  irresistible  impulse  all  but  controlled  him 
to  crush  her  to  him,  to  kiss  her  lips  and  her  throat,  to  lose 
his  fingers  in  the  soft,  shadowy  fineness  of  her  hair.  The 
crest  of  the  wave  passed  almost  immediately,  but  it  left  him 
shaken.  A  faint  colour  deepened  under  the  transparence  of 
her  skin;  her  fathomless  black  eyes  widened  ever  so  little; 
she  released  her  hand. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  come  so  promptly,"  said  she. 
"  I'm  so  anxious  to  hear  all  about  the  dear  people  at  Red- 
ding." 

She  settled  gracefully  in  one  of  the  little  chairs.  Orde 
sat  down,  once  more  master  of  himself,  but  still  inclined  to 
devour  her  with  his  gaze.  She  was  dressed  in  a  morning 
gown,  all  laces  and  ribbons  and  long,  flowing  lines.  Her 
hair  was  done  low  on  the  back  of  her  head  and  on  the 
nape  of  her  neck.  The  blood  ebbed  and  flowed  beneath  her 
clear  skin.  A  faint  fragrance  of  cleanliness  diffused  itself 
about  her — the  cool,  sweet  fragrance  of  daintiness.  They 
entered  busily  into  conversation.  Her  attitudes  were  no 
longer  relaxed  and  languidly  graceful  as  in  the  easy  chairs 
under  the  lamplight.  She  sat  forward,  her  hands  crossed 
on  her  lap,  a  fire  smouldering  deep  beneath  the  cool  surface 
lights  of  her  eyes. 

The  sounds  in  the  next  room  increased  in  volume,  as 
though  several  people  must  have  entered  that  apartment. 
In  a  moment  or  so  the  curtains  to  the  hall  parted  to  frame 
the  servant. 

"  Mrs.  Bishop  wishes  to  know,  miss,"  said  that  function- 
ary, "  if  you're  not  coming  to  breakfast." 

Orde  sprang  to  his  feet. 


146  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Haven't  you  had  your  breakfast  yet  ?  "  he  cried,  con- 
science stricken. 

"Didn't  you  gather  the  fact  that  I'm  just  up?"  she 
mocked  him.  "  I  assure  you  it  doesn't  matter.  The  family 
has  just  come  down." 

"  But,"  cried  Orde,  "  I  wasn't  here  until  nine  o'clock.  I 
thought,  of  course,  you'd  be  around.  I'm  mighty  sorry ~" 

"  Oh,  la  la !  "  she  cried,  cutting  him  short.  "  What  a 
pother  about  nothing.  Don't  you  see — I'm  ahead  a  whole 
hour  of  good  talk." 

"  You  see,  you  told  me  in  your  note  to  come  early,"  said 
Orde. 

"  I  forgot  you  were  one  of  those  dreadful  outdoor  men. 
You  didn't  see  any  worms,  did  you  ?  Next  time  I'll  tell  you 
to  come  the  day  after." 

Orde  was  for  taking  his  leave,  but  this  she  would  not 
have. 

"  You  must  meet  my  family,"  she  negatived.  "  For  if 
you're  here  for  so  short  a  time  we  want  to  see  something 
of  you.  Come  right  out  now." 

Orde  thereupon  followed  her  down  a  narrow,  dark  hall, 
squeezed  between  the  stairs  and  the  wall,  to  a  door  that 
opened  slantwise  into  a  dining-room  the  exact  counterpart 
in  shape  to  the  parlour  at  the  other  side  of  the  house.  Only 
in  this  case  the  morning  sun  and  more  diaphanous  curtains 
lent  an  air  of  brightness,  further  enhanced  by  a  wire  stand 
of  flowers  in  the  bow-windows. 

The  centre  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  a  round  table, 
about  which  were  grouped  several  people  of  different  ages. 
With  her  back  to  the  bow-window  sat  a  woman  well  be- 
yond middle  age,  but  with  evidently  some  pretensions  to 
youth.  She  was  tall,  desiccated,  quick  in  movement.  Dark 
rings  below  her  eyes  attested  either  a  nervous  disease,  an 
hysterical  temperament,  or  both.  Immediately  at  her  left 
sat  a  boy  of  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  his  face  a  curious 


THE   RIVERMAN 

contradiction  between  a  naturally  frank  and  open  expres' 
sion  and  a  growing  sullenness.  Next  him  stood  a  vacant 
chair,  evidently  for  Miss  Bishop.  Opposite  lolled  a  young 
man,  holding  a  newspaper  in  one  hand  and  a  coffee  cup  in 
the  other.  He  was  very  handsome,  with  a  drooping  black 
moustache,  dark  eyes,  under  lashes  almost  too  luxuriant, 
and  a  long,  oval  face,  dark  in  complexion,  and  a  trifle  sar- 
donic in  expression.  In  the  vis-a-vis  to  Mrs.  Bishop,  Orde 
was  surprised  to  find  his  ex-military  friend  of  the  street 
car.  Miss  Bishop  performed  the  necessary  introductions, 
which  each  acknowledged  after  his  fashion,  but  with  an  ap- 
parent indifference  that  dashed  Orde,  accustomed  to  a  more 
Western  cordiality.  Mrs.  Bishop  held  out  a  languidly  grace- 
ful hand,  the  boy  mumbled  a  greeting,  the  young  man 
nodded  lazily  over  his  newspaper.  Only  General  Bishop, 
recognising  him,  arose  and  grasped  his  hand,  with  a  real, 
though  rather  fussy,  warmth. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  honoured  to  see  you 
again.  Th's,  my  dear,"  he  addressed  his  wife,  "  is  the  young 
man  I  was  telling  you  about — in  the  street  car,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"  How  very  interesting,"  said  Mrs.  Bishop,  with  evidently 
no  comprehension  and  less  interest. 

Gerald  Bishop  cast  «in  ironically  amused  glance  across 
at  Orde.  The  boy  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  the  sullenness 
for  a  moment  gone  from  his  face. 

Carroll  Bishop  appeared  quite  unconscious  of  an  atmos- 
phere which  seemed  to  Orde  strained,  but  sank  into  her 
place  at  the  table  and  unfolded  her  napkin.  The  silent  butler 
drew  forward  a  chair  for  Orde,  and  stood  looking  impas- 
sively in  Mrs.  Bishop's  direction. 

"  You  will  have  some  breakfast  with  us  ?  "  she  inquired. 
"  No  ?  A  cup  of  coffee,  at  least  ?  " 

She  began  to  manipulate  the  coffee  pot,  without  paying 
the  slightest  attention  to  Orde's  disclaimer.  The  general 


148  THE   RIVERMAN 

puffed  out  his  cheeks,  and  coughed  a  bit  in  embarrass- 
ment. 

"A  good  cup  of  coffee  is  never  amiss  to  an  old  cam- 
paigner," he  said  to  Orde.  "  It's  as  good  as  a  full  meal  in 
a  pinch.  I  remember  when  I  was  a  major  in  the  Eleventh, 
down  near  the  City  of  Mexico,  in  '48,  the  time  Hardy's 
command  was  so  nearly  wiped  out  by  that  viaduct — "  He 
half  turned  toward  Orde,  his  face  lighting  up,  his  fingers 
reaching  for  the  fork  with  which,  after  the  custom  of  old 
soldiers,  to  trace  the  chart  of  his  reminiscences. 

Mrs.  Bishop  rattled  her  cup  and  saucer  with  an  uncon- 
trollably nervous  jerk  of  her  slender  body.  For  some  mo- 
ments she  had  awaited  a  chance  to  get  the  general's  atten- 
tion. "  Spare  us,  father,"  she  said  brusquely.  "  Will  you 
have  another  cup  of  coffee  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman,  arrested  in  mid-career,  swallowed, 
looked  a  trifle  bewildered,  but  subsided  meekly. 

"  No,  thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  he,  and  went  furiously 
at  his  breakfast. 

Orde,  overwhelmed  by  embarrassment,  discovered  that 
none  of  the  others  had  paid  the  incident  the  slightest  atten- 
tion. Only  on  the  lips  of  Gerald  Bishop  he  surprised  a  fine, 
detached  smile. 

At  this  moment  the  butler  entered  bearing  the  mail.  Mrs. 
Bishop  tore  hers  open  rapidly,  dropping  the  mangled  en- 
velopes at  her  side.  The  contents  of  one  seemed  to  vex 
her. 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried  aloud.  "  That  miserable  Marie !  She 
promised  me  to  have  it  done  to-day,  and  now  she  puts  it  off 
until  Monday.  It's  too  provoking !  "  She  turned  to  Orde 
for  sympathy.  "  Do  you  know  anything  more  aggravating 
than  to  work  and  slave  to  the  limit  of  endurance,  and 
then  have  everything  upset  by  the  stupidity  of  some  one 
else?" 

Orde  murmured   an  appropriate  reply,  to   which   Mrs. 


THE   RIVERMAN  149 

Bishop  paid  no  attention  whatever.  She  started  suddenly  up 
from  the  table. 

"  I  must  see  about  it ! "  she  cried.  "  I  plainly  see  I  shall 
have  to  do  it  myself.  I  will  do  it  myself.  I  promised  it  for 
Sunday." 

"  You  mustn't  do  another  stitch,  mother,"  put  in  Carroll 
Bishop  decidedly.  "  You  know  what  the  doctor  told  you. 
You'll  have  yourself  down  sick." 

"Well,  see  for  yourself!"  cried  Mrs.  Bishop.  "That's 
what  comes  of  leaving  things  to  others !  If  I'd  done  it  my- 
self, it  would  have  saved  me  all  this  bother  and  fuss,  and  it 
would  have  been  done.  And  now  I've  got  to  do  it  anyway." 

"  My  dear,"  put  in  the  general,  "  perhaps  Carroll  can  see 
Marie  about  it.  In  any  case,  there's  nothing  to  work  your- 
self up  into  such  an  excitement  about." 

"  It's  very  easy  for  you  to  talk,  isn't  it  ? "  cried  Mrs. 
Bishop,  turning  on  him.  "  I  like  the  way  you  all  sit  around 
like  lumps  and  do  nothing,  and  then  tell  me  how  I  ought 
to  have  done  it.  John,  have  the  carriage  around  at  once." 
She  turned  tensely  to  Orde.  "  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me," 
she  said  very  briefly ;  "  I  have  something  very  important  to 
attend  to." 

Carroll  had  also  risen.  Orde  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  he. 

"  Well,"  she  conceded,  "  I  suppose  I'd  better  see  if  I 
can't  help  mother  out.  But  you'll  come  in  again.  Come  and 
dine  with  us  this  evening.  Mother  will  be  delighted." 

As  Mrs.  Bishop  had  departed  from  the  room,  Orde  had 
to  take  for  granted  the  expression  of  this  delight.  He  bowed 
to  the  other  occupants  of  the  table.  The  general  was  eating 
nervously.  Gerald's  eyes  were  fixed  amusedly  on  Orde. 

To  Orde's  surprise,  he  was  almost  immediately  joined  on 
the  street  by  young  Mr.  Bishop,  most  correctly  appointed. 

"  Going  anywhere  in  particular  ? "  he  inquired.  "  Let's 
gc*  up  the  avenue,  then.  Everybody  will  be  out." 


150  THE    RIVERMAN 

They  turned  up  the  great  promenade,  a  tour  of  which 
was  then,  even  more  than  now,  considered  obligatory  on 
the  gracefully  idle.  Neither  said  anything — Orde  because  he 
was  too  absorbed  in  the  emotions  this  sudden  revelation  of 
Carroll's  environment  had  aroused  in  him;  Gerald,  appar- 
ently, because  he  was  too  indifferent.  Nevertheless  it  was 
the  young  exquisite  who  finally  broke  the  silence. 

"  It  was  an  altar  cloth,"  said  he  suddenly. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Orde,  rather  bewildered. 

"  Mother  is  probably  the  most  devout  woman  in  New 
York,"  went  on  Gerald's  even  voice.  "  She  is  one  of  the 
hardest  workers  in  the  church.  She  keeps  all  the  fast  days, 
and  attends  all  the  services.  Although  she  has  no  strength  to 
speak  of,  she  has  just  completed  an  elaborate  embroidered 
altar  cloth.  The  work  she  accomplished  while  on  her  knees. 
Often  she  spent  five  or  six  hours  a  day  in  that  position.  It 
was  very  devout,  but  against  the  doctor's  orders,  and  she 
is  at  present  much  pulled  down.  Finally  she  gave  way  to 
persuasion  to  the  extent  of  sending  the  embroidery  out  to 
be  bound  and  corded.  As  a  result,  the  altar  cloth  will  not 
be  done  for  next  Sunday." 

He  delivered  this  statement  in  a  voice  absolutely  colour- 
less, without  the  faintest  trace  discernible  of  either  ap- 
proval or  disapproval,  without  the  slightest  irony,  yet  Orde 
felt  vaguely  uncomfortable. 

"  It  must  have  been  annoying  to  her,"  he  said  gravely, 
"and  I  hope  she  will  get  it  done  in  time.  Perhaps  Miss 
Bishop  will  be  able  to  do  it." 

"  That,"  said  Gerald,  "  is  Madison  Square — or  perhaps 
you  know  New  York?  My  sister  would,  of  course,  be  only 
too  glad  to  finish  the  work,  but  I  fear  that  my  mother's 
peculiarly  ardent  temperament  will  now  insist  on  her  own 
accomplishment  of  the  task.  But  perhaps  you  do  not  under- 
stand temperaments  ?  " 

"  Very  little,  I'm  afraid,"  confessed  Orde. 


THE    RIVERMAN  151 

They  walked  on  for  some  distance  farther. 

"  Your  father  was  in  the  Mexican  War  ?  "  said  Orde,  to 
change  the  trend  of  his  own  thoughts. 

"  He  was  a  most  distinguished  officer.  I  believe  he  re- 
ceived the  Medal  of  Honour  for  a  part  in  the  affair  of  the 
Molina  del  Key." 

"  What  command  had  he  in  the  Civil  War  ?  "  asked  Orde. 
"  I  fooled  around  the  outskirts  of  that  a  little  myself." 

"  My  father  resigned  from  the  army  in  '54,"  replied 
Gerald,  with  his  cool,  impersonal  courtesy. 

"  That  was  too  bad ;  just  before  the  chance  for  more 
service,"  said  Orde. 

"  Army  life  was  incompatible  with  my  mother's  tempera^ 
ment,"  stated  Gerald. 

Orde  said  nothing  more.  It  was  Gerald's  turn  to  end  the 
pause. 

"  You  are  from  Redding,  of  course,"  said  he.  "  My  sister 
is  very  enthusiastic  about  the  place.  You  are  in  business 
there?" 

Orde  replied  briefly,  but,  forced  by  the  direct,  cold,  and 
polite  cross-questioning  of  his  companion,  he  gave  the  latter 
a  succinct  idea  of  the  sort  of  operations  in  which  he  was 
interested. 

"  And  you,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  I  suppose  you're  either  a 
broker  or  lawyer;  most  men  are  down  here." 

"  I  am  neither  one  nor  the  other,"  stated  Gerald.  "  I  am 
possessed  of  a  sufficient  income  from  a  legacy  to  make 
business  unnecessary." 

"  I  don't  believe  I'd  care  to — be  idle,"  said  Orde 
vaguely. 

"  There  is  plenty  to  occupy  one's  time,"  replied  Gerald. 
"  I  have  my  clubs,  my  gymnasium,  my  horse,  and  my 
friends." 

"  Isn't  there  anything  that  particularly  attracts  you  ? " 
tsked  Orde, 


152  THE   RIVERMAN 

The  young  man's  languid  eyes  grew  thoughtful,  and  he 
puffed  more  strongly  on  his  cigarette. 

"  I  should  like,"  said  he  slowly,  at  last,  "  to  enter  the 
navy." 

"  Why  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Orde  bluntly. 

"  Certain  family  reasons  make  it  inexpedient  at  present," 
said  Gerald.  "  My  mother  is  in  a  very  nervous  state ;  she 
depends  on  us,  and  any  hint  of  our  leaving  her  is  sufficient 
to  render  her  condition  serious." 

By  this  time  the  two  young  men  were  well  uptown.  On 
Gerald's  initiative,  they  turned  down  a  side  street,  and 
shortly  came  to  a  stop. 

"  That  is  my  gymnasium,"  said  Gerald,  pointing  to  a 
building  across  the  way.  "  Won't  you  come  in  with  me  ?  I 
am  due  now  for  ray  practice." 


XVII 

ORDE'S  evening  was  a  disappointment  to  him.  Mrs. 
Bishop  had,  by  Carroll's  report,  worked  feverishly 
at  the  altar  cloth  all  the  afternoon.  As  a  conse- 
quence, she  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  bad  headache.  This 
state  of  affairs  seemed  to  throw  the  entire  family  into  a 
state  of  indecision.  It  was  divided  in  mind  as  to  what  to 
do,  the  absolute  inutility  of  any  effort  balancing  strongly 
against  a  sense  of  what  the  invalid  expected. 

"  I  wonder  if  mother  wouldn't  like  just  a  taste  of  this 
beef,"  speculated  the  general,  moving  fussily  in  his  chair. 
"  I  believe  somebody  ought  to  take  some  up.  She  might 
want  it." 

The  man  departed  with  the  plate,  but  returned  a  few 
moments  later,  impassive — but  still  with  the  plate. 

"  Has  she  got  her  hot-water  bag  ?  "  asked  the  boy  un- 
expectedly. 

"  Yes,  Master  Kendrick,"  replied  the  butler. 

After  a  preoccupied  silence  the  general  again  broke  out: 

"  Seems  to  me  somebody  ought  to  be  up  there  with  her." 

"  You  know,  father,  that  she  can't  stand  any  one  in  the 
room,"  said  Carroll  equably. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  meal,  however,  a  distant  bell 
tinkled  faintly.  Every  one  jumped  as  though  guilty.  Carroll 
said  a  hasty  excuse  and  ran  out.  After  ringing  the  bell,  the 
invalid  had  evidently  anticipated  its  answer  by  emerging 
from  her  room  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  for  Orde  caught 
the  sharp  tones  of  complaint,  and  overheard  something 
about  "  take  all  night  to  eat  a  simple  meal,  when  I'm  lying 
here  suffering." 

153 


154  THE   RIVERMAN 

At  the  end  of  an  interval  a  maid  appeared  in  the  doorway 
to  say  that  Miss  Carroll  sent  word  she  would  not  be  down 
again  for  a  time,  and  did  not  care  for  any  more  dinner. 
This  seemed  to  relieve  the  general's  mind  of  responsibility. 
He  assumed  his  little  fussy  air  of  cheerfulness,  told  several 
stories  of  the  war,  and  finally,  after  Kendrick  had  left, 
brought  out  some  whisky  and  water.  He  winked  slyly  at 
Orde. 

"  Can't  do  this  before  the  youngsters,  you  know,"  he 
chirruped  craftily. 

Throughout  the  meal  Gerald  had  sat  back  silent,  a  faint 
amusement  in  his  eye.  After  dinner  he  arose,  yawned,  con- 
sulted his  watch,  and  departed,  pleading  an  engagement. 
Orde  lingered  some  time,  listening  to  the  general,  in  the 
hope  that  Carroll  would  reappear.  She  did  not,  so  finally  he 
took  his  leave. 

He  trudged  back  to  his  hotel  gloomily.  The  day  had 
passed  in  a  most  unsatisfactory  manner,  according  to  his 
way  of  looking  at  it.  Yet  he  had  come  more  clearly  to  an 
understanding  of  the  girl;  her  cheerfulness,  her  unselfish- 
ness, and,  above  all,  the  sweet,  beautiful  philosophy  of  life 
that  must  lie  back,  to  render  her  so  uncomplainingly  the 
slave  of  the  self-willed  woman,  yet  without  the  indifferent 
cynicism  of  Gerald,  the  sullen,  yet  real,  partisanship  of  Ken- 
drick, or  the  general's  week-kneed  acquiescence! 

The  next  morning  he  succeeded  in  making  an  arrange- 
ment by  letter  for  an  excursion  to  the  newly  projected  Cen- 
tral Park.  Promptly  at  two  o'clock  he  was  at  the  Bishops' 
house.  To  his  inquiry  the  butler  said  that  Mrs.  Bishop  had 
recovered  from  her  indisposition,  and  that  Miss  Bishop 
would  be  down  immediately.  Orde  had  not  long  to  wait  for 
her.  The  swish,  pat-pat  of  her  joyous  descent  of  the  stairs 
brought  him  to  his  feet.  She  swept  aside  the  portieres,  and 
stood  between  their  folds,  bidding  him  welcome. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  about  last  night,"  said  she,  "  but  poop 


THE    RIVERMAN  155 

mother  does  depend  on  me  so  at  such  times.  Isn't  it  a  gor- 
geous day  to  walk?  It  won't  be  much  like  our  woods,  will 
it?  But  it  will  be  something.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  get  out!  " 

She  was  in  one  of  her  elfish  moods,  the  languid  grace  of 
her  sleepy-eyed  moments  forgotten.  With  a  little  cry  of 
rapture  she  ran  to  the  piano,  and  dashed  into  a  gay,  tink- 
ling air  with  brilliancy  and  abandon.  Her  head,  surmounted 
by  a  perky,  high-peaked,  narrow-brimmed  hat,  with  a  flam- 
ing red  bird  in  front,  glorified  by  the  braid  and  "  water- 
fall "  of  that  day,  bent  forward  and  turned  to  flash  an 
appeal  for  sympathy  toward  Orde. 

"  There,  I  feel  more  able  to  stay  on  earth !  "  she  cried, 
springing  to  her  feet.  "  Now  I'll  get  on  my  gloves  and  we'll 
start." 

She  turned  slowly  before  the  mirror,  examining  quite 
frankly  the  hang  of  her  skirt,  the  fit  of  her  close-cut  waist, 
the  turn  of  the  adorable  round,  low-cut  collars  that  were 
then  the  mode. 

"  It  pays  to  be  particular ;  we  are  in  New  York,"  she  an- 
swered, or  parried,  Orde's  glance  of  admiration. 

The  gloves  finally  drawn  on  and  buttoned,  Orde  held 
aside  the  portieres,  and  she  passed  fairly  under  his  uplifted 
hand.  He  wanted  to  drop  his  arm  about  her,  this  slender 
girl  with  her  quaint  dignity,  her  bird-like  ways,  her  gentle, 
graceful,  mysterious,  feminine  soul.  The  flame-red  bird  lent 
its  colour  to  her  cheeks ;  her  eyes,  black  and  fathomless, 
the  pupils  wide  in  this  dim  light,  shone  with  two  stars  of 
delight. 

But,  as  they  moved  toward  the  massive  front  doors,  Mrs. 
Bishop  came  down  the  stairs  behind  them.  She,  too,  was 
dressed  for  the  street.  She  received  Orde's  greeting  and 
congratulation  over  her  improved  health  in  rather  an  absent 
manner.  Indeed,  as  soon  as  she  could  hurry  this  preliminary 
over,  she  plunged  into  what  evidently  she  considered  a 
more  important  matter. 


THE   RIVERMAN 

"  You  aren't  thinking  of  going  out,  are  you  ?  "  she  asked 
Carroll. 

"  I  told  you,  mother ;  don't  you  remember  ?  Mr.  Orde 
and  I  are  going  to  get  a  little  air  in  the  park." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Bishop,  with  great  brevity  and 
decision,  "  but  I'm  going  to  the  rectory  to  help  Mr.  Merritt, 
and  I  shall  want  you  to  go  too,  to  see  about  the  silver." 

"  But,  mother,"  expostulated  Carroll,  "  wouldn't  Marie 
do  just  as  well?" 

"  You  know  very  well  she  can't  be  trusted  without  direc- 
tion." 

"  I  do  so  want  to  go  to  the  park,"  said  Carroll  wistfully. 

Mrs.  Bishop's  thin,  nervous  figure  jerked  spasmodically. 

"  There  is  very  little  asked  of  you  from  morning  until 
night,"  she  said,  with  some  asperity,  "  and  I  should  think 
you'd  have  some  slight  consideration  for  the  fact  that  I'm 
just  up  from  a  sick  bed  to  spare  me  all  you  could.  Besides 
which,  you  do  very  little  for  the  church.  I  won't  insist.  Do 
exactly  as  you  think  best." 

Carroll  threw  a  pathetic  glance  at  Orde. 

"  How  soon  are  you  going  ?  "  she  asked  her  mother. 

"  In  about  ten  minutes,"  replied  Mrs.  Bishop ;  "  as  soon 
as  I've  seen  Honorine  about  the  dinner."  She  seemed 
abruptly  to  realise  that  the  amenities  demanded  something 
of  her.  "  I'm  sorry  we  must  go  so  soon,"  she  said  briefly  to 
Orde,  "but  of  course  church  business —  We  shall  hope  to 
see  you  often." 

Once  more  Orde  held  aside  the  curtains.  The  flame-bird 
drooped  from  the  twilight  of  the  hall  into  the  dimness  of 
the  parlour.  All  the  brightness  seemed  to  have  drained  from 
the  day,  and  all  the  joy  of  life  seemed  to  have  faded  from 
the  girl's  soul.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  and  tried  pathetically 
to  smile  across  at  Orde. 

"  I'm  such  a  baby  about  disappointments,"  said  she., 

*'  I  know,"  he  replied,  very  gently. 


THE    RIVERMAN  157 

"  And  it's  such  a  blue  and  gold  day." 

"  I  know,"  he  repeated. 

She  twisted  her  glove  in  her  lap,  a  bright  spot  of  colour 
burning  in  each  cheek. 

"  Mother  is  not  well,  and  she  has  a  great  deal  to  try  her. 
Poor  mother !  "  she  said  softly,  her  head  cast  down. 

"  I  know,"  said  Orde  in  his  gentle  tones. 

After  a  moment  he  arose  to  go.  She  remained  seated, 
her  head  down. 

"  I'm  sorry  about  this  afternoon,"  said  he  cheerfully, 
"but  it  couldn't  be  helped,  could  it?  Jane  used  to  tell  me 
about  your  harp  playing.  I'm  going  to  come  in  to  hear  you 
this  evening.  May  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  stifled  voice,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

She  sat  quite  still  until  she  heard  the  front  door  close 
after  him;  then  she  ran  to  the  curtains  and  looked  after 
his  sturdy,  square  figure,  as  it  swung  up  the  street. 

"  Well  done ;  oh,  well  done,  gentle  heart !  "  she  breathed 
after  him.  Then  she  went  back  to  the  piano. 

But  Orde's  mouth,  could  she  have  seen  it,  was  set  in 
grim  lines,  and  his  feet,  could  she  have  heard  them,  rang 
on  the  pavement  with  quite  superfluous  vigour.  He  turned 
to  the  left,  and,  without  pause,  walked  some  ten  or  twelve 
miles. 

The  evening  turned  out  very  well,  fortunately;  Orde 
could  not  have  stood  much  more.  They  had  the  parlour 
quite  to  themselves.  Carroll  took  the  cover  from  the  tall 
harp,  and,  leaning  her  cheek  against  it,  she  played  dreamily 
for  a  half  hour.  Her  arms  were  bare,  and  as  her  fingers 
reached  out  lingeringly  and  caressingly  to  draw  the  pure, 
golden  chords  from  the  golden  instrument,  her  soft  bosom 
pressed  against  the  broad  sounding  board.  There  is  about 
the  tones  of  a  harp  well  played  something  luminous,  like 
rich,  warm  sunlight.  When  the  girl  muted  the  strings  at 
last,  it  seemed  to  Orde  as  though  all  at  once  the  room  had 


158  THE   RIVERMAN 

perceptibly  darkened.  He  took  his  leave  finally,  his  spirit 
soothed  and  restored. 

Tranquillity  was  not  for  long,  however.  Orde's  visits  were, 
naturally,  as  frequent  as  possible.  To  them  almost  Instantly 
Mrs.  Bishop  opposed  the  strong  and  intuitive  jealousy  of 
egotism.  She  had  as  yet  no  fears  as  to  the  young  man's 
intentions,  but  instinctively  she  felt  an  influence  that  op- 
posed her  own  supreme  dominance.  In  consequence,  Orde 
had  much  time  to  himself.  Carroll  and  the  rest  of  the 
family,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Gerald,  shared  the 
belief  that  the  slightest  real  opposition  to  Mrs.  Bishop 
would  suffice  to  throw  her  into  one  of  her  "  spells,"  a  con- 
dition of  alarming  and  possibly  genuine  collapse.  "  To  drive 
mother  into  a  spell "  was  an  expression  of  the  worst  pos- 
sible domestic  crime.  It  accused  the  perpetrator — through 
Mrs.  Bishop — of  forgetting  the  state  of  affairs,  of  in- 
gratitude for  care  and  affection,  of  common  inhumanity, 
and  of  impiety  in  rendering  impossible  of  performance  the 
multifarious  church  duties  Mrs.  Bishop  had  invented  and 
assumed  as  so  many  particularly  shining  virtues.  Orde  soon 
discovered  that  Carroll  went  out  in  society  very  little  for 
the  simple  reason  that  she  could  never  give  an  unqualified 
acceptance  to  an  invitation.  At  the  last  moment,  when  she 
had  donned  her  street  wraps  and  the  carriage  was  at  the 
door,  she  was  liable  to  be  called  back,  either  to  assist  at 
some  religious  function,  which,  by  its  sacred  character,  was 
supposed  to  have  precedence  over  everything,  or  to  'attend 
i  nervous  crisis,  brought  on  by  some  member  of  the  house- 
hold, or  by  mere  untoward  circumstances.  The  girl  always 
acquiesced  most  sweetly  in  these  recurrent  disappointments. 
And  the  very  fact  that  she  accepted  few  invitations  gave 
Orde  many  more  chances  to  see  her,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Bish- 
op's increasing  exactions.  He  did  not  realise  this  fact,  how- 
ever, but  ground  his  teeth  and  clung  blind-eyed  to  his 
temper  whenever  the  mother  cut  short  his  visits  or  annulled 


THE   RIVERMAN  159 

his  engagements  on  some  petty  excuse  of  her  own.  He 
could  almost  believe  these  interruptions  malicious,  were  it 
not  that  he  soon  discovered  Mrs.  Bishop  well  disposed 
toward  him  personally  whenever  he  showed  himself  ready 
to  meet  her  even  quarter  way  on  the  topics  that  interested 
her — the  church  and  her  health. 

In  this  manner  the  week  passed.  Orde  saw  as  much  as 
he  could  of  Miss  Bishop.  The  remainder  of  the  time  he 
spent  walking  the  streets  and  reading  in  the  club  rooms  to 
which  Gerald's  courtesy  had  given  him  access.  Gerald 
himself  seemed  to  be  much  occupied.  Precisely  at  eleven 
every  morning,  however,  he  appeared  at  the  gymnasium 
for  his  practice ;  and  in  this  Orde  dropped  into  the  habit  of 
joining  him.  When  the  young  men  first  stripped  in  each 
other's  presence,  they  eyed  each  other  with  a  secret  surprise. 
Gerald's  slender  and  elegant  body  turned  out  to  be  smooth- 
ly and  gracefully  muscled  on  the  long  lines  of  the  Flying 
Mercury.  His  bones  were  small,  but  his  flesh  was  hard,  and 
his  skin  healthy  with  the  flow  of  blood  beneath.  Orde,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  earned  from  the  river  the  torso  of  an 
ancient  athlete.  The  round,  full  arch  of  his  chest  was  topped 
by  a  mass  of  clean-cut  muscle ;  across  his  back,  beneath  the 
smooth  skin,  the  muscles  rippled  and  ridged  and  dimpled 
with  every  movement;  the  beautiful  curve  of  the  deltoids, 
from  the  point  of  the  shoulder  to  the  arm,  met  the  other 
beautiful  curve  of  the  unflexed  biceps  and  that  fulness  of 
the  back  arm  so  often  lacking  in  a  one-sided  development; 
the  surface  of  the  abdomen  showed  the  peculiar  corruga- 
tion of  the  very  strong  man;  the  round,  columnar  neck 
arose  massive. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Gerald,  roused  at  last  from  his  habitual 
apathy. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  asked  Orde,  looking  up  from 
tying  the  rubber-soled  shoes  that  Gerald  had  lent  him? 

"  Murphy,"  palled  Gerald,  "  come  here." 


l6o  THE    RIVERMAN 

A  very  hairy,  thick-set,  bullet-headed  man,  the  type  of 
semi-professional  "handlers,"  emerged  from  somewhere 
across  the  gymnasium. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  down  this  fellow  ? "  asked 
Gerald. 

Murphy  looked  Orde  over  critically. 

"  Who  ye  ringin'  in  on  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

'This  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Gerald  severely. 

•'*  Beg  your  pardon.  The  gentleman  is  well  put  up.  How 
much  experience  has  he  had  ?  " 

"  Ever  box  much  ?  "  Gerald  asked  Orde. 

"  Box  ?  "  Orde  laughed.  "  Never  had  time  for  that  sort 
of  thing.  Had  the  gloves  on  a  few  times." 

"  Where  did  you  get  your  training,  sir  ? "  asked  the 
handler. 

"My  training?"  repeated  Orde,  puzzled.  "Oh,  I  see! 
I  was  always  pretty  heavy,  and  I  suppose  the  work  on  the 
river  keeps  a  man  in  pretty  good  shape." 

Gerald's  languor  had  vanished,  and  a  glint  had  appeared 
in  his  eye  that  would  have  reminded  Orde  of  Miss  Bishop's 
most  mischievous  mood  could  he  have  seen  it. 

"  Put  on  the  gloves  with  Murphy,"  he  suggested,  "  will 
you?  I'd  like  to  see  you  two  at  it." 

"  Surely,"  agreed  Orde  good-naturedly.  "  I'm  not  much 
good  at  it,  but  I'd  just  as  soon  try."  He  was  evidently  not 
in  the  least  afraid  to  meet  the  handler,  though  as  evidently 
without  much  confidence  in  his  own  skill. 

"  All  right ;  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  second,"  said  Gerald, 
disappearing.  In  the  anteroom  he  rung  a  bell,  and  to  the 
boy  who  leisurely  answered  its  summons  he  said  rapidly: 

"  Run  over  to  the  club  and  find  Mr.  Winslow,  Mr. 
Clark,  and  whoever  else  is  in  the  smoking  room,  and  tell 
them  from  me  to  come  over  to  the  gymnasium.  Tell  them 
there's  some  fun  on." 

Then  he  returned  to  the  gymnasium  floor,  where  Mur- 


THE    RIVERMAN  161 

phy  was  answering  Orde's  questions  as  to  the  apparatus. 
While  the  two  men  were  pulling  on  the  gloves,  Gerald 
managed  a  word  apart  with  the  trainer. 

"  Can  you  do  him,  Murph  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Sure !  "  said  the  handler.  "  Them  kind's  always  as  slow 
as  dray-horses.  They  gets  muscle-bound." 

"  Give  it  to  him,"  said  Gerald,  "  but  don't  kill  him.  He's 
a  friend  of  mine." 

Then  he  stepped  back,  the  same  joy  in  his  soul  that  in- 
spires a  riverman  when  he  encounters  a  high-banker;  a 
hunter  when  he  takes  out  a  greenhorn,  or  a  cowboy  as  he 
watches  the  tenderfoot  about  to  climb  the  bronco. 

"Time!"  said  he. 

The  first  round  was  sharp.  When  Gerald  called  the  end, 
Orde  grinned  at  him  cheerfully. 

"  Don't  look  like  I  was  much  at  this  game,  does  it  ? " 
said  he.  "  I  wouldn't  pull  down  many  persimmons  out  of 
that  tree.  Your  confounded  man's  too  lively ;  I  couldn't  hit 
him  with  a  shotgun." 

Orde  had  stood  like  a  rock,  his  feet  planted  to  the  floor, 
while  Murphy  had  circled  around  him  hitting  at  will.  Orde 
hit  back,  but  without  landing.  Nevertheless  Murphy,  when 
questioned  apart,  did  not  seem  satisfied. 

"  The  man's  pig-iron,"  said  he.  "  I  punched  him  plenty 
hard  enough,  and  it  didn't  seem  to  jar  him." 

The  gallery  at  one  end  the  running  track  had  by  now 
half  filled  with  interested  spectators. 

"  Time !  "  called  Gerald  for  round  two. 

This  time  Murphy  went  in  more  viciously,  aiming  and 
measuring  his  blows  accurately.  Orde  stood  as  before,  a 
humourous  smile  of  self -depreciation  on  his  face,  hitting 
back  at  the  elusive  Murphy,  but  without  much  effect,  his 
feet  never  stirring  in  their  tracks.  The  handler  used  his  best 
tactics  and  landed  almost  at  will,  but  without  apparent  dam- 
age. He  grew  ugly — finally  lost  his  head. 


162  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Well,  if  ye  will  have  it ! "  he  muttered,  and  aimed 
what  was  intended  as  a  knockout  blow. 

Gerald  uttered  a  half  cry  of  warning  as  his  practised 
eye  caught  Murphy's  intention.  The  blow  landed.  Orde's 
head  snapped  back,  but  to  the  surprise  of  every  one  the 
punch  had  no  other  effect,  and  a  quick  exchange  of  in- 
fighting sent  Murphy  staggering  back  from  the  encounter. 
The  smile  had  disappeared  from  Orde's  face,  and  his  eyi 
had  calmed. 

"  Look  here,'1  he  called  to  Gerald,  "  I  don't  understand 
this  game  very  veil.  At  school  we  used  'taps.'  Is  a  man 
supposed  to  hit  hard  ?  " 

Gerald  hesitated,  then  looked  beyond  Orde  tc  the  gal- 
lery. To  a  man  it  made  frantic  and  silent  demonstration. 

"  Of  course  you  hit,"  he  replied.  "  You  can't  hurt  any 
one  with  those  big  gloves." 

Orde  turned  back  to  his  antagonist.  The  latter  advanced 
once  more,  his  bullet  head  sunk  between  his  shoulders,  his 
little  eyes  twinkling.  Evidently  Mr.  Bishop's  friend  would 
now  take  the  aggressive,  and  forward  movement  v/ould 
deliver  an  extra  force  to  the  professional's  blows, 

Orde  did  not  wait  for  Murphy,  however.  Like  a  tiger 
he  sprang  forward,  hitting  out  fiercely,  first  with  one  hand 
then  with  the  other.  Murphy  gave  ground,  blocked,  ducked, 
exerted  all  a  ring  general's  skill  either  to  stop  or  avoid 
the  rush.  Orde  followed  him  insistent.  Several  times  he 
landed,  but  always  when  Murphy  was  on  the  retreat,  so 
the  blows  had  not  much  weight.  Several  times  Murphy 
ducked  in  and  planted  a  number  of  short-arm  jabs  at  close 
range.  The  round  ended  almost  immediately  to  a  storm  of 
applause  from  the  galleries. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  his  being  muscle-bound  ?  "  Ger- 
ald asked  Murphy,  as  the  latter  flung  himself  panting  on 
the  wrestling  mat  for  his  rest. 

"  He's  quick  as  chained   lightning,"   acknowledged   the 


THE   RIVERMAN  163 

other  grudgingly.  "  But  I'll  get  him.  He  can't  keep  that 
up;  he'll  be  winded  in  half  a  minute." 

Orde  sat  down  on  a  roll  of  mat.  His  smile  had  quite 
vanished,  and  he  seemed  to  be  awaiting  eagerly  the  begin- 
ning of  the  next  round. 

"  Time !  "  called  Gerald  for  the  thifd. 

Orde  immediately  sprang  at  his  adversary,  repeating  the 
headlong  rush  with  which  the  previous  round  had  ended. 
Murphy  blocked,  ducked,  and  kept  away,  occasionally  de- 
livering a  jolt  as  opportunity  offered,  awaiting  the  time 
when  Orde's  weariness  would  leave  him  at  the  other's 
mercy.  That  moment  did  not  come.  The  young  man  ham- 
mered away  tirelessly,  insistently,  delivering  a  hurricane 
of  his  two-handed  blows,  pressing  relentlessly  in  as  Mur- 
phy shifted  and  gave  ground,  his  head  up,  his  eyes  steady, 
oblivious  to  the  return  hammering  the  now  desperate  hand- 
ler opposed  to  him.  Two  minutes  passed  without  percep- 
tible slackening  in  this  terrific  pace.  The  gallery  was  in  an 
uproar,  and  some  of  the  members  were  piling  down  the 
stairs  to  the  floor.  Perspiration  stood  out  all  over  Murphy's 
body.  His  blows  failed  of  their  effect,  and  some  of  Orde's 
were  landing.  At  length,  bewildered  more  by  the  continu- 
ance than  the  violence  of  the  attack,  he  dropped  his  ring 
tactics  and  closed  in  to  straight  slugging,  blow  against 
blow,  stand  up,  give  and  take. 

As  he  saw  his  opponent  stand,  Orde  uttered  a  sound  of 
satisfaction.  He  dropped  slightly  his  right  shoulder  behind 
his  next  blow.  The  glove  crashed  straight  as  a  pile-driver 
through  Murphy's  upraised  hands  to  his  face,  which  it  met 
with  a  smack.  The  trainer,  lifted  bodily  from  the  ground, 
was  hurled  through  the  air,  to  land  doubled  up  against  the 
supports  of  a  parallel  bars.  There  he  lay  quite  still,  his 
palms  up,  his  head  sunk  forward. 

Orde  stared  at  him  a  moment  in  astonishment,  as  though 
expecting  him  to  arise.  When,  however,  he  perceived  that 


164  THE    RIVERMAN 

Murphy  was  in  reality  unconscious,  he  tore  off  the  gloves 
and  ran  forward  to  kneel  by  the  professional's  side. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  one  punch  like  that  would  hurt  him," 
he  muttered  to  the  men  crowding  around.  "  Especially  with 
the  gloves.  Do  you  suppose  he's  killed  ?  " 

But  already  Murphy's  arms  were  making  aimless  men 
tions,  and  a  deep  breath  raised  his  chest. 

"  He's  just  knocked  out,"  reassured  one  of  the  men,  ex- 
amining the  prostrate  handler  with  a  professional  atten- 
tion. "  He'll  be  as  good  as  ever  in  five  minutes.  Here,"  he 
commanded  one  of  the  gymnasium  rubbers  who  had  ap- 
peared, "  lend  a  hand  here  with  some  water." 

The  clubmen  crowded  about,  all  talking  at  once. 

"You're  a  wonder,  my  friend,"  said  one. 

"  By  Jove,  he's  hardly  breathing  fast  after  all  that  rush- 
ing," said  a  second. 

"  So  you  didn't  think  one  punch  like  that  would  hurt 
him,"  quoted  another  with  good-natured  sarcasm. 

"  No,"  said  Orde,  simply.  "  I've  hit  men  that  hard  before 
with  my  bare  fist." 

"Did  they  survive?" 

"  Surely." 

"What  kind  of  armour-plates  were  they,  in  heaven's 
name?" 

Orde  had  recovered  his  balance  and  humour. 

"  Just  plain  ordinary  rivermen,"  said  he  with  a  laugh. 

"  Gentlemen,"  struck  in  Gerald,  "  I  want  to  introduce 
you  to  my  friend."  He  performed  the  introductions.  It 
was  necessary  for  him  to  explain  apart  that  Orde  was  in 
reality  his  friend,  an  amateur,  a  chance  visitor  in  the  city. 
All  in  all,  the  affair  made  quite  a  little  stir,  and  went  far 
to  give  Orde  a  standing  with  these  sport-loving  youths. 

Finally  Gerald  and  Orde  were  permitted  to  finish  their 
gymnasium  practice.  Murphy  had  recovered,  and  came  for- 
ward. 


THE   RIVERMAN  165 

"  You  have  a  strong  punch,  sir,  and  you're  a  born  natu- 
ral fighter,  sir,"  said  he.  "If  you  had  a  few  lessons  in 
boxing,  sir,  I'd  put  you  against  the  best." 

But  later,  when  the  young  men  were  resting,  each  un- 
der his  sheet  after  a  rub-down,  the  true  significance  of 
the  affair  for  Orde  came  out.  Since  the  fight,  Gerald's 
customary  lassitude  of  manner  seemed  quite  to  have  left 
him.  His  eye  was  bright,  a  colour  mounted  beneath  the 
pale  olive  of  his  skin,  the  almost  effeminate  beauty  of  his 
countenance  had  animated.  He  looked  across  at  Orde  sev- 
eral times,  hesitated,  and  at  last  decided  to  speak. 

"  Look  here,  Orde,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  confess  some- 
thing to  you.  When  you  first  came  here  three  days  ago,  I 
had  lots  of  fun  with  myself  about  you.  You  know  your 
clothes  aren't  quite  the  thing,  and  I  thought  your  man- 
ner was  queer,  and  all  that.  I  was  a  cad.  I  want  to  apolo- 
gise. You're  a  man,  and  I  like  you  better  than  any  fellow 
I've  met  for  a  long  time.  And  if  there's  any  trouble — in 
the  future — that  is — oh,  hang  it,  I'm  on  your  side — you 
know  what  I  mean ! " 

Orde  smiled  slowly. 

"  Bishop,"  was  his  unexpected  reply,  "  you're  not  near 
so  much  of  a  dandy  as  you  think  you  are." 


XVIII 

A  FAIRS  went  thus  for  a  week.      Orde  was  much  at 
the  Bishop  residence,  where  he  was  cordially  re- 
ceived by  the  general,  where  he  gained  an  occa- 
sional half-hour  with  Carroll,  and  where  he  was  almost 
ignored  by  Mrs.   Bishop  in  her  complete  self-absorption. 
Indeed,  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether  he  attained  any  real 
individuality  to  that  lady,  who  looked  on  all  the  world  out- 
side her  family  as  useful  or  useless  to  the  church. 

In  the  course  of  the  happy  moments  he  had  alone  with 
Carroll,  he  arrived  at  a  more  intimate  plane  of  conversa- 
tion with  her.  He  came  to  an  understanding  of  her  un- 
questioning acceptance  of  Mrs.  Bishop's  attitude.  Carroll 
truly  believed  that  none  but  herself  could  perform  for  her 
mother  the  various  petty  offices  that  lady  demanded  from 
her  next  of  kin,  and  that  her  practical  slavery  was  due  by 
every  consideration  of  filial  affection.  To  Orde's  occasional 
tentative  suggestion  that  the  service  was  of  a  sort  better 
suited  to  a  paid  companion  or  even  a  housemaid,  she  an- 
swered quite  seriously  that  it  made  mother  nervous  to  have 
others  about  her,  and  that  it  was  better  to  do  these  things 
than  to  throw  her  into  a  "  spell."  Orde  chafed  at  first  over 
seeing  his  precious  opportunities  thus  filched  from  him; 
later  he  fretted  because  he  perceived  that  Carroll  was 
forced,  however  willingly,  to  labours  beyond  her  strength, 
to  irksome  confinement,  and  to  that  intimate  and  wearing 
close  association  with  the  abnormal  which  in  the  long  run 
is  bound  to  deaden  the  spirit.  He  lost  sight  of  his  own 
grievance  in  the  matter.  With  perhaps  somewhat  of  exag- 


THE   RIVERMAN  167 

geration  he  came  mightily  to  desire  for  her  more  of  the 
open  air,  both  of  body  and  spirit.  Often  when  tramping 
back  to  his  hotel  he  communed  savagely  with  himself,  turn- 
ing the  problem  over  and  over  in  his  mind  until,  like  a 
snowball,  it  had  gathered  to  itself  colossal  proportions. 

And  in  his  hotel  room  he  brooded  over  the  state  of  af- 
fairs until  his  thoughts  took  a  very  gloomy  tinge  indeed. 
To  begin  with,  in  spite  of  his  mother's  assurance,  he  had 
no  faith  in  his  own  cause.  His  acquaintance  with  Carroll  was 
but  an  affair  of  months,  and  their  actual  meetings  com- 
prised incredibly  few  days.  Orde  was  naturally  humble- 
minded.  It  did  not  seem  conceivable  to  him  that  he  could 
win  her  without  a  long  courtship.  And  superadded  was  the 
almost  intolerable  weight  of  Carroll's  ideas  as  to  her  do- 
mestic duties.  Although  Orde  held  Mrs.  Bishop's  exac- 
tions in  very  slight  esteem,  and  was  most  sceptical  in 
regard  to  the  disasters  that  would  follow  their  thwarting, 
nevertheless  he  had  to  confess  to  himself  that  all  Carroll's 
training,  life,  the  very  purity  and  sweetness  of  her  dis- 
position lent  the  situation  an  iron  reality  for  her.  He  be- 
came much  discouraged. 

Nevertheless,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  it  would  be  utterly  useless  even  to  indulge 
in  hope  for  some  years  to  come,  he  spoke.  It  came  about 
suddenly,  and  entirely  without  premeditation. 

The  two  had  escaped  for  a  breath  of  air  late  in  the  even- 
ing. Following  the  conventions,  they  merely  strolled  to  the 
end  of  the  block  and  back,  always  within  sight  of  the 
house.  Fifth  Avenue  was  gay  with  illumination  and  the 
prancing  of  horses  returning  uptown  or  down  to  the  Wash- 
ington Square  district.  In  contrast  the  side  street,  with  its 
austere  rows  of  brownstone  houses,  each  with  its  area  and 
flight  of  steps,  its  spaced  gas  lamps,  its  deserted  roadway, 
seemed  very  still  and  quiet.  Carroll  was  in  a  tired  and  pen- 
sive mood.  She  held  her  head  back,  breathing  deeply. 


108  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  It's  only  a  little  strip,  but  it's  the  stars,"  said  she,  look- 
ing up  to  the  sky  between  the  houses.  "  They're  so  quiet 
and  calm  and  big." 

She  seemed  to  Orde  for  the  first  time  like  a  little  girl. 
The  maturer  complexities  which  we  put  on  with  years, 
with  experience,  and  with  the  knowledge  of  life  had  for 
the  moment  fallen  from  her,  leaving  merely  the  simple 
soul  of  childhood  gazing  in  its  eternal  wonder  at  the  stars. 
A  wave  of  tenderness  lifted  Orde  from  his  feet.  He  leaned 
over,  his  breath  coming  quickly. 

"Carroll!"  he  said. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  and  shrank  back. 

"  No,  no !  You  mustn't,"  she  cried.  She  did  not  pretend 
to  misunderstand.  The  preliminaries  seemed  in  some  mys- 
terious fashion  to  have  been  said  long  ago. 

"  It's  life  or  death  with  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  must  not,"  she  cried,  fluttering  like  a  bird.  "  I  prom- 
ised myself  long  ago  that  I  must  always,  always  take  care 
of  mother." 

"  Please,  please,  dear,"  pleaded  Orde.  He  had  nothing 
more  to  say  than  this,  just  the  simple  incoherent  symbols 
of  pleading;  but  in  such  crises  it  is  rather  the  soul  than 
the  tongue  that  speaks.  His  hand  met  hers  and  closed  about 
it.  It  did  not  respond  to  his  grasp,  nor  did  it  draw  away, 
but  lay  limp  and  warm  and  helpless  in  his  own. 

She  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"  Don't  you  care  for  me,  dear  ?  "  asked  Orde  very  gently. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  tell  you  that,"  answered  she.  "  I 
have  tried,  oh,  so  hard,  to  keep  you  from  saying  this,  for 
I  knew  I  had  no  right  to  hear  you." 

Orde's  heart  leaped  with  a  wild  exultation. 

"  You  do  care  for  me !  "  he  cried. 

They  had  mounted  the  steps  and  stood  just  within  the 
vestibule.  Orde  drew  her  toward  him,  but  she  repulsed  him 
gently. 


THE   RIVERMAN  169 

"  No,"  she  shook  her  head.  "  Please  be  very  good  to  me. 
I'm  very  weak." 

"Carroll!"  cried  Orde.  "Tell  me  that  you  love  me! 
Tell  me  that  you'll  marry  me !  " 

"  It  would  kill  mother  if  I  should  leave  her,"  she  said 
sadly. 

"  But  you  must  marry  me,"  pleaded  Orde.  "  We  are 
made  for  each  other.  God  meant  us  for  each  other." 

"  It  would  have  to  be  after  a  great  many  years,"  she 
said  doubtfully. 

She  pulled  the  bell,  which  jangled  faintly  in  the  depths 
of  the  house. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said.  "  Come  to  me  to-morrow.  No, 
you  must  not  come  in."  She  cut  short  Orde's  insistence 
and  the  eloquence  that  had  just  found  its  life  by  slipping 
inside  the  half-open  door  and  closing  it  after  her. 

Orde  stood  for  a  moment  uncertain;  then  turned  away 
and  walked  up  the  street,  his  eyes  so  blinded  by  the  greater 
glory  that  he  all  but  ran  down  an  inoffensive  passer-by. 

At  the  hotel  he  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  mother.  The 
first  part  was  full  of  the  exultation  of  his  discovery.  He 
told  of  his  good  fortune  quite  as  something  just  born,  ut- 
terly forgetting  his  mother's  predictions  before  he  came 
East.  Then  as  the  first  effervescence  died,  a  more  gloomy 
view  of  the  situation  came  uppermost.  To  his  heated  imagi- 
nation the  deadlock  seemed  complete.  Carroll's  devotion  to 
what  she  considered  her  duty  appeared  unbreakable.  In 
the  reaction  Orde  doubted  whether  he  would  have  it  other- 
wise. And  then  his  fighting  blood  surged  back  to  his  heart. 
All  the  eloquence,  the  arguments,  the  pleadings  he  should 
have  commanded  earlier  in  the  evening  hurried  belated  to 
their  posts.  After  the  manner  of  the  young  and  imagina- 
tive when  in  the  white  fire  of  emotion,  he  began  drama- 
tising scenes  between  Carroll  and  himself.  He  saw  them 
plainly.  He  heard  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  as  he  T+- 


170  THE    RIVERMAN 

hearsed  the  arguments  which  should  break  her  resolution. 
A  woman's  duty  to  her  own  soul ;  her  obligation  toward 
the  man  she  could  make  or  mar  by  her*  love;  her  self- 
respect;  the  necessity  of  a  break  some  time;  the  advantage 
of  having  the  crisis  over  with  now  rather  than  later;  a 
belief  in  the  ultimate  good  even  to  Mrs.  Bishop  of  throw- 
ing that  lady  more  on  her  own  resources;  and  so  forth 
and  so  on  down  a  list  of  arguments  obvious  enough  or 
trivial  enough,  but  all  inspired  by  the  soul  of  fervour,  all 
ennobled  by  the  spirit  of  truth  that  lies  back  of  the  major 
premise  that  a  woman  should  cleave  to  a  man,  forsaking 
all  others.  Orde  sat  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  vacant,  his 
pen  all  but  falling  from  his  hand.  He  did  not  finish  the 
letter  to  his  mother.  After  a  while  he  went  upstairs  to  his 
own  room. 

The  fever  of  the  argument  coursed  through  his  veins  all 
that  long  night.  Over  and  over  again  he  rehearsed  it  in 
wearisome  repetition  until  it  had  assumed  a  certain  and 
almost  invariable  form.  And  when  he  had  reached  the  end 
of  his  pleading  he  began  it  over  again,  until  the  daylight 
found  him  weary  and  fevered.  He  arose  and  dressed  him- 
self. He  could  eat  no  breakfast.  By  a  tremendous  effort 
of  the  will  he  restrained  himself  from  going  over  to  Ninth 
Street  until  the  middle  of  the  morning. 

He  entered  the  drawing-room  to  find  her  seated  at  the 
piano.  His  heart  bounded,  and  for  an  instant  he  stood  still, 
summoning  his  forces  to  the  struggle  for  which  he  had 
so  painfully  gathered  his  ammunition.  She  did  not  look  up 
as  he  approached  until  he  stood  almost  at  her  shoulder. 
Then  she  turned  to  him  and  held  out  both  her  hands. 

"  It  is  no  use,  Jack,"  she  said.  "  I  care  for  you  too  much. 
I  will  marry  you  whenever  you  say." 


XIX 

ORDE  left  that  evening  early.  This  was  at  Carroll's 
request.  She  preferred  herself  to  inform  her  fam- 
ily of  the  news. 

"  I  don't  know  yet  how  mother  is  going  to  get  along," 
said  she.  "  Come  back  to-morrow  afternoon  and  see  them 
all." 

The  next  morning  Orde,  having  at  last  finished  and  de- 
spatched the  letter  to  his  mother,  drifted  up  the  avenue  and 
into  the  club.  As  he  passed  the  smoking  room  he  caught 
sight  of  Gerald  seated  in  an  armchair  by  the  window.  He 
entered  the  room  and  took  a  seat  opposite  the  young  fellow. 

Gerald  held  out  his  hand  silently,  which  the  other  took. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Gerald  at  last.  "  Very  glad. 
I  told  you  I  was  on  your  side."  He  hesitated,  then  went 
on  gravely :  "  Poor  Carroll  is  having  a  hard  time,  though. 
I  think  it's  worse  than  she  expected.  It's  no  worse  than 
I  expected.  You  are  to  be  one  of  the  family,  so  I  am  going 
to  give  you  a  piece  of  advice.  It's  something,  naturally,  I 
wouldn't  speak  of  otherwise.  But  Carroll  is  my  only  sister, 
and  I  want  her  to  be  happy.  I  think  you  are  the  man  to 
make  her  so,  but  I  want  you  to  avoid  one  mistake.  Fight 
it  out  right  now,  and  never  give  back  the  ground  you 
win." 

"  I  feel  that,"  replied  Orde  quietly. 

"  Mother  made  father  resign  from  the  army ;  and  while 
he's  a  dear  old  boy,  he's  never  done  anything  since.  She 
holds  me — although  I  see  through  her — possibly  because 
I'm  weak  or  indifferent,  possibly  because  I  have  a  silly 

171 


172  THE   RIVERMAN 

idea  I  can  make  a  bad  situation  better  by  hanging  around. 
She  is  rapidly  turning  Kendrick  into  a  sullen  little  prig, 
because  he  believes  implicitly  all  the  grievances  against  the 
world  and  the  individual  she  pours  out  to  him.  You  see, 
I  have  no  illusions  concerning  my  family.  Only  Carroll  has 
held  to  her  freedom  of  soul,  because  that's  the  joyous,  free, 
sweet  nature  of  her,  bless  her!  For  the  first  time  she's 
pitted  her  will  against  mother's,  and  it's  a  bad  clash." 

"Your  mother  objected?"  asked  Orde. 

Gerald  laughed  a  little  bitterly.  "  It  was  very  bad,"  said 
he.  "  You've  grown  horns,  hoofs,  and  a  tail  overnight. 
There's  nothing  too  criminal  to  have  escaped  your  notice. 
I  have  been  forbidden  to  consort  with  you.  So  has  the 
general.  The  battle  of  last  night  had  to  do  with  your  com- 
ing to  the  house  at  all.  As  it  is  not  Carroll's  house,  naturally 
she  has  no  right  to  insist." 

"  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  see  her  ?  "  cried  Orde. 

"  I  did  not  say  that.  Carroll  announced  then  quite  openly 
that  she  would  see  you  outside.  I  fancy  that  was  the  crux 
of  the  matter.  Don't  you  see?  The  whole  affair  shifted 
ground.  Carroll  has  offered  direct  disobedience.  Oh,  she's 
a  bully  little  fighter ! "  he  finished  in  admiring  accents. 
"You  can't  quite  realise  what  she's  doing  for  your  sake; 
she's  not  only  fighting  mother,  but  her  own  heart." 

Orde  found  a  note  at  the  hotel,  asking  him  to  be  in 
Washington  Square  at  half-past  two. 

Carroll  met  him  with  a  bright  smile. 

"  Things  aren't  quite  right  at  home,"  she  said.  "  It  is  a 
great  shock  to  poor  mother  at  first,  and  she  feels  very 
strongly.  Oh,  it  isn't  you,  dear;  it's  the  notion  that  I  can 
care  for  anybody  but  her.  You  see,  she's  been  used  to  the 
other  idea  so  long  that  I  suppose  it  seemed  a  part  of  the 
universe  to  her.  She'll  get  used  to  it  after  a  little,  but  it 
takes  time." 

Orde  examined  her  face  anxiously.  Two  bright  red  spots 


THE    RIVERMAN  173 

burned  on  her  cheeks;  her  eyes  flashed  with  a  nervous 
animation,  and  a  faint  shade  had  sketched  itself  beneath 
them. 

"  You  had  a  hard  time,"  he  murmured,  "  you  poor  dear !  " 

She  smiled  up  at  him. 

"  We  have  to  pay  for  the  good  things  in  life,  don't  we, 
dear?  And  they  are  worth  it.  Things  will  come  right  after 
a  little.  We  must  not  be  too  impatient.  Now,  let's  enjoy 
the  day.  The  park  isn't  so  bad,  is  it?" 

At  five  o'clock  Orde  took  her  back  to  her  doorstep, 
where  he  left  her. 

This  went  on  for  several  days. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Orde  could  not  conceal  from 
himself  that  the  strain  was  beginning  to  tell.  Carroll's  wor- 
ried expression  grew  from  day  to  day,  while  the  animation 
that  characterised  her  manner  when  freed  from  the  re- 
straint became  more  and  more  forced.  She  was  as  though 
dominated  by  some  inner  tensity,  which  she  dared  not  re- 
lax even  for  a  moment.  To  Orde's  questionings  she  replied 
as  evasively  as  she  could,  assuring  him  always  that  matters 
were  going  as  well  as  she  had  expected ;  that  mother  was 
very  difficult;  that  Orde  must  have  patience,  for  things 
would  surely  come  all  right.  She  begged  him  to  remain 
quiescent  until  she  gave  him  the  word;  and  she  implored 
it  so  earnestly  that  Orde,  though  he  chafed,  was  forced  to 
await  the  turn  of  events.  Every  afternoon  she  met  him, 
from  two  to  five.  The  situation  gave  little  opportunity  for 
lovers'  demonstrations.  She  seemed  entirely  absorbed  by  the 
inner  stress  of  the  struggle  she  was  going  through,  so  that 
hardly  did  she  seem  able  to  follow  coherently  even  plans  for 
the  future.  She  appeared,  however,  to  gain  a  mysterious 
refreshment  from  Orde's  mere  proximity ;  so  gradually  he, 
with  that  streak  of  almost  feminine  intuition  which  is  the 
especial  gift  to  lovers,  came  to  the  point  of  sitting  quite 
silent  with  her,  clasping  her  hand  out  of  sight  of  the  chance 


174  THE   RIVERMAN 

passer-by.  When  the  time  came  to  return,  they  arose  and 
walked  back  to  Ninth  Street,  still  in  silence.  At  the  door 
they  said  good-bye.  He  kissed  her  quite  soberly. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help,  sweetheart,"  said  he. 

She  shook  her  head  at  him. 

"  You  do  help,"  she  replied. 

From  Gerald  at  the  club,  Orde  sought  more  intimate 
news  of  what  was  going  on.  For  several  days,  however, 
the  young  man  absented  himself  from  his  usual  haunts.  It 
was  only  at  the  end  of  the  week  that  Orde  succeeded  in 
finding  him.  . 

"  No,"  Gerald  answered  his  greeting,  "  I  haven't  been 
around  much.  I've  been  sticking  pretty  close  home." 

Little  by  little,  Orde's  eager  questions  drew  out  the  truth 
of  the  situation.  Mrs.  Bishop  had  shut  herself  up  in  a  blind 
and  incredible  obstinacy,  whence  she  sallied  with  floods 
of  complaints,  tears,  accusations,  despairs,  reproaches, 
vows,  hysterics — all  the  battery  of  the  woman  misunder- 
stood, but  in  which  she  refused  to  listen  to  a  consecutive 
conversation.  If  Carroll  undertook  to  say  anything,  the 
third  word  would  start  her  mother  off  into  one  of  her  long 
and  hysterical  tirades.  It  was  very  wearing,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  gained  from  day  to  day.  Her  child 
had  disobeyed  her.  And  as  a  climax,  she  had  assumed 
the  impregnable  position  of  a  complete  prostration,  wherein 
she  demanded  the  minute  care  of  an  invalid  in  the  crisis 
of  a  disorder.  She  could  bear  no  faintest  ray  of  illumina- 
tion, no  lightest  footfall.  In  a  hushed  twilight  she  lay,  her 
eyes  swathed,  moaning  feebly  that  her  early  dissolution  at 
the  hands  of  ingratitude  was  imminent.  Thus  she  estab- 
lished a  deadlock  which  was  likely  to  continue  indefinitely. 
The  mere  mention  of  the  subject  nearest  Carroll's  heart 
brought  the  feeble  complaint: 

"  Do  you  want  to  kill  me  ?  " 

The   only   scrap   of   victory   to   be   snatched   from   this 


THE    RIVERMAN  175 

;tricken  field  was  the  fact  that  Carroll  insisted  on  going 
to  meet  her  lover  every  afternoon.  The  invalid  demanded 
every  moment  of  her  time,  either  for  personal  attendance 
or  in  fulfilment  of  numerous  and  exacting  church  duties. 
An  attempt,  however,  to  encroach  thus  on  the  afternoon 
hours  met  a  stone  wall  of  resolution  on  Carroll's  part. 

This  was  the  situation  Orde  gathered  from  his  talk  with 
Gerald.  Though  he  fretted  under  the  tyranny  exacted,  he 
could  see  nothing  which  could  relieve  the  situation  save 
his  own  withdrawal.  He  had  already  long  over-stayed  his 
visit;  important  affairs  connected  with  his  work  demanded 
his  attention,  he  had  the  comfort  of  Carroll's  love  assured ; 
and  the  lapse  of  time  alone  could  be  depended  on  to  change 
Mrs.  Bishop's  attitude,  a  consummation  on  which  Carroll 
seemed  set.  Although  Orde  felt  all  the  lively  dissatisfaction 
natural  to  a  newly  accepted  lover  who  had  gained  slight 
opportunity  for  favours,  for  confidences,  even  for  the  mak- 
ing of  plans,  nevertheless  he  could  see  for  the  present  noth- 
ing else  to  do. 

The  morning  after  he  had  reached  this  conclusion  he 
again  met  Gerald  at  the  gymnasium.  That  young  man,  while 
as  imperturbable  and  languid  in  movement  as  ever,  con- 
cealed an  excitement.  He  explained  nothing  until  the  two, 
after  a  shower  and  rub-down,  were  clothing  themselves 
leisurely  in  the  empty  couch-room. 

"  Orde,"  said  Gerald  suddenly,  "  I'm  worried  about  Car- 
roll." 

Orde  straightened  his  back  and  looked  steadily  at  Ger- 
ald, but  said  nothing. 

"  Mother  has  commenced  bothering  her  again.  It  wasn't 
so  bad  as  long  as  she  stuck  to  daytime,  but  now  she's  taken 
to  prowling  in  a  dozen  times  a  night.  I  hear  their  voices 
for  an  hour  or  so  at  a  time.  I'm  afraid  it's  beginning  to 
wear  on  Carroll  more  than  you  realise." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Orde  briefly. 


i;6  THE   RIVERMAN 

That  afternoon  with  Carroll  he  took  the  affair  firmly  in 
hand. 

"  This  thing  has  come  to  the  point  where  it  must  stop," 
said  he,  "  and  I'm  going  to  stop  it.  I  have  some  rights 
in  the  matter  of  the  health  and  comfort  of  the  girl  I 
love." 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  ? "  asked  Carroll,  fright- 
ened. 

"  I  shall  have  it  out  with  your  mother,"  replied  Orde. 

"  You  mustn't  do  that,"  implored  Carroll.  "  It  would  do 
absolutely  no  good,  and  would  just  result  in  a  quarrel  that 
could  never  be  patched  up." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  care  particularly,"  said  Orde. 

"  But  I  do.  Think — she  is  my  mother." 

Orde  stirred  uneasily  with  a  mental  reservation  as  to 
selfishness,  but  said  nothing. 

"And  think  what  it  means  to  a  girl  to  be  married  and 
go  away  from  home  finally  without  her  parent's  consent. 
It's  the  most  beautiful  and  sacred  thing  in  her  life,  and 
she  wants  it  to  be  perfect.  It's  worth  waiting  and  fighting 
a  little  for.  After  all,  we  are  both  young,  and  we  have 
known  each  other  such  a  very  short  time." 

So  she  pleaded  with  him,  bringing  forward  all  the  un- 
answerable  arguments  built  by  the  long  average  experience 
of  the  world — arguments  which  Orde  could  not  refute,  but 
whose  falsity  to  the  situation  he  felt  most  keenly.  He  could 
not  specify  without  betraying  Gerald's  confidence.  Raging 
inwardly,  he  consented  to  a  further  armistice. 

At  his  hotel  he  found  a  telegram.  He  did  not  open  it 
until  he  had  reached  his  own  room.  It  was  from  home, 
urging  his  immediate  return  for  the  acceptance  of  some 
contracted  work. 

"  To  hell  with  the  contracted  work ! "  he  muttered  sav- 
agely, and  calling  a  bell-boy,  sent  an  answer  very  much  to 
that  effect.  Then  he  plunged  his  hands  into  his  pockets, 


THE    RIVERMAN  177 

stretched  out  his  legs,  and  fell  into  a  deep  and  gloomy 
meditation. 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  on  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  he  called,  without  turning  his  head. 

He  heard  the  door  open  and  shut.  After  a  moment  he 
looked  around.  Kendrick  Bishop  stood  watching  him. 

Orde  lit  the  gas. 

"Hello,  Kendrick!"  said  he.  "Sit  down." 

The  boy  made  no  reply.  Orde  looked  at  him  curiously, 
and  saw  that  he  was  suffering  from  an  intense  excitement. 
His  frame  trembled  convulsively,  his  lips  were  white,  his 
face  went  red  and  pale  by  turns.  Evidently  he  had  some- 
thing to  say,  but  could  not  yet  trust  his  voice.  Orde  sat 
down  and  waited. 

"  You've  got  to  let  my  mother  alone,"  he  managed  to 
say  finally. 

"  I  have  done  nothing  to  your  mother,  Kendrick,"  said 
Orde  kindly. 

"  You've  brought  her  to  the  point  of  death,"  asserted 
Kendrick  violently.  "  You're  hounding  her  to  her  grave. 
You're  turning  those  she  loves  best  against  her." 

Orde  thought  to  catch  the  echo  of  quotation  in  thest 
words. 

"  Did  your  mother  send  you  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  we  had  any  one  else  worth  the  name  of  man  in  the 
family,  I  wouldn't  have  to  come,"  said  Kendrick,  almost 
in  the  manner  of  one  repeating  a  lesson. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? "  asked  Orde  after  a 
moment  of  thought. 

"  Go  away,"  cried  Kendrick.  "  Stop  this  unmanly  con- 
test against  a  defenceless  woman." 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  replied  Orde  quietly. 

Kendrick's  face  assumed  a  livid  pallor,  and  his  eyes 
seemed  to  turn  black  with  excitement.  Trembling  in  every 
limb,  but  without  hesitation,  he  advanced  on  Orde,  drew  a 


178  THE   RIVERMAN 

short  riding-whip  from  beneath  his  coat,  and  slashed  the 
young  man  across  the  face.  Orde  made  an  involuntary 
movement  to  arise,  but  sank  back,  and  looked  steadily  at 
the  boy.  Once  again  Kendrick  hit;  raised  his  arm  for  the 
third  time;  hesitated.  His  lips  writhed,  and  then,  with  a 
sob,  he  cast  the  little  whip  from  him  and  burst  from  the 
room. 

Orde  sat  without  moving,  while  two  red  lines  slowly 
defined  themselves  across  his  face.  The  theatrical  quality 
of  the  scene  and  the  turgid  rhetorical  bathos  of  the  boy's 
speeches  attested  his  youth  and  the  unformed  violence  of 
his  emotions.  Did  they  also  indicate  a  rehearsal,  or  had  the 
boy  merely  been  goaded  to  vague  action  by  implicit  belief 
in  a  woman's  vagaries?  Orde  did  not  know,  but  the  inci- 
dent brought  home  to  him,  as  nothing  else  could,  the  tur- 
moil of  that  household. 

"  Poor  youngster ! "  he  concluded  his  reverie,  and  went 
to  wash  his  face  in  hot  water. 

He  had  left  Carroll  that  afternoon  in  a  comparatively 
philosophical  and  hopeful  frame  of  mind.  The  next  day  she 
came  to  him  with  hurried,  nervous  steps,  her  usually  pale 
cheeks  mounting  danger  signals  of  flaming  red,  her  eyes 
swimming.  When  she  greeted  him  she  choked,  and  two  of 
the  tears  overflowed.  Quite  unmindful  of  the  nursemaids 
across  the  square,  Orde  put  his  arm  comfortingly  about  her 
shoulder.  She  hid  her  face  against  his  sleeve  and  began 
softly  to  cry. 

Orde  did  not  attempt  as  yet  to  draw  from  her  the  cause 
of  this  unusual  agitation.  A  park  bench  stood  between  two 
dense  bushes,  screened  from  all  directions  save  one.  To 
this  he  led  her.  He  comforted  her  as  one  comforts  a  child, 
stroking  clumsily  her  hair,  murmuring  trivialities  without 
meaning,  letting  her  emotion  relieve  itself.  After  awhile  she 
recovered  somewhat  her  control  of  herself  and  sat  up  away 
from  him,  dabbing  at  her  eyes  with  a  handkerchief  damp- 


THE    RIVERMAN  179 

ened  into  a  tiny  wad.  But  even  after  she  had  shaken  her 
head  vigorously  at  last,  and  smiled  up  at  him  rather  tremu- 
lously in  token  that  the  storm  was  over,  she  would  not  tell 
him  that  anything  definite  had  happened  to  brinp  on  the 
outburst. 

"  I  just  needed  you,"  she  said,  "  that's  all.  It's  just 
nothing  but  being  a  woman,  I  think.  You'll  get  used  to 
little  things  like  that." 

"  This  thing  has  got  to  quit !  "  said  he  grimly. 

She  said  nothing,  but  reached  up  shyly  and  touched  his 
face  where  Kendrick's  whip  had  stung,  and  her  eyes  be- 
came very  tender.  A  carriage  rolled  around  Washington 
Arch,  and,  coming  to  a  stand,  discharged  its  single  pas- 
senger on  the  pavement. 

"  Why,  it's  Gerald !  "  cried  Carroll,  surprised. 

The  young  man,  catching  sight  of  them,  picked  his  way 
daintily  and  leisurely  toward  them.  He  was,  as  usual, 
dressed  with  metriculous  nicety,  the  carnation  in  his  button- 
hole, the  gloss  on  his  hat  and  shoes,  the  freshness  on  his 
gloves,  the  correct  angle  on  his  stick.  His  dark,  long  face 
with  its  romantic  moustache,  and  its  almost  effeminate  soft 
eyes,  was  as  unemotional  and  wearied  as  ever.  As  he  ap- 
proached, he  raised  his  stick  slightly  by  way  of  salutation. 

"  I  have  brought,"  said  he,  "  a  carriage,  and  I  wish  you 
would  both  do  me  the  favour  to  accompany  me  on  a  short 
excursion." 

Taking  their  consent  for  granted,  he  signalled  the  vehi- 
cle, which  rapidly  approached. 

The  three — Carroll  and  Orde  somewhat  bewildered — 
took  their  seats.  During  a  brief  drive,  Gerald  made  con- 
versation on  different  topics,  apparently  quite  indifferent 
as  to  whether  or  not  his  companions  replied.  After  an 
interval  the  carriage  drew  up  opposite  a  brown-stone  dwell- 
ing on  a  side  street.  Gerald  rang  the  bell,  and  a  moment 
later  the  three  were  ushered  by  a  discreet  and  elderly  maid 


i8o  THE    RIVERMAN 

into  a  little  square  reception-room  immediately  off  the  hall. 
The  maid  withdrew. 

Gerald  carefully  deposited  his  top  hat  on  the  floor,  placed 
in  it  his  gloves,  and  leaned  his  stick  against  its  brim. 

"  I  have  brought  you  here,  among  other  purposes,  to 
hear  from  me  a  little  brief  wisdom  drawn  from  experience 
and  the  observation  of  life,"  he  began,  addressing  his  ex- 
pectant and  curious  guests.  "  That  wisdom  is  briefly  this : 
there  comes  a  time  in  the  affairs  of  every  household  when 
a  man  must  assert  himself  as  the  ruler.  In  all  the  details 
he  may  depend  on  the  woman's  judgment,  experience,  and 
knowledge,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  big  crises,  where  life 
is  deflected  into  one  channel  or  the  other,  then,  unless  the 
man  does  the  deciding,  he  is  lost  for  ever,  and  his  happi- 
ness, and  the  happiness  of  those  who  depend  on  him.  This 
is  abstruse,  but  I  come  to  the  particular  application  shortly. 

"  But  moments  of  decision  are  always  clouded  by  many 
considerations.  The  decision  is  sure  to  cut  across  much 
that  is  expedient,  much  that  seems  to  be  necessary,  much 
that  is  dear.  Carroll  remembers  the  case  of  our  own  father. 
The  general  would  have  made  a  name  for  himself  in  the 
army;  his  wife  demanded  his  retirement;  he  retired,  and 
his  career  ended.  That  was  the  moment  of  his  decision. 
It  is  very  easy  to  say,  in  view  of  that  simple  statement, 
that  the  general  was  weak  in  yielding  to  his  wife,  but  a 
consideration  of  the  circumstances " 

"  Why  do  you  say  all  this  ?  "  interrupted  Orde. 

Gerald  raised  his  hand. 

"  Believe  me,  it  is  necessary,  as  you  will  agree  when  you 
have  heard  me  through.  Mrs.  Bishop  was  in  poor  health; 
the  general  in  poor  financial  circumstances.  The  doctors 
said  the  Riviera.  Mrs.  Bishop's  parents,  who  were  wealthy, 
furnished  the  money  for  her  sojourn  in  that  climate.  She 
could  not  bear  to  be  separated  from  her  husband.  A  refusal 
to  resign  then,  a  refusal  to  accept  the  financial  aid  offered. 


THE    RIVERMAN  181 

would  have  been  cast  against  him  as  a  reproach — he  did 
not  love  his  wife  enough  to  sacrifice  his  pride,  his  ambi- 
tion, his  what-you-will.  Nevertheless,  that  was  his  moment 
of  decision. 

"  I  could  multiply  instances,  yet  it  would  only  accumu- 
late needless  proof.  My  point  is  that  in  these  great  mo- 
ments a  man  can  afford  to  take  into  consideration  only 
the  affair  itself.  Never  must  he  think  of  anything  but  the 
simple  elements  of  the  problem — he  must  ignore  whose  toes 
are  trodden  upon,  whose  feelings  are  hurt,  whose  happiness 
is  apparently  marred.  For  note  this:  if  a  man  does  fear- 
lessly the  right  thing,  I  am  convinced  that  in  the  readjust- 
ment all  these  conflicting  interests  find  themselves  bettered 
:nstead  of  injured.  You  want  a  concrete  instance?  I  believe 
nnnly  that  if  the  general  had  kept  to  his  army  life,  and 
made  his  wife  conform  to  it,  after  the  storm  had  passed  she 
would  have  settled  down  to  a  happy  existence.  I  cannot 
prove  it — I  believe  it." 

"  This  may  be  all  very  true,  Gerald,"  said  Orde,  "  but 
I  fail  to  see  why  you  have  brought  us  to  this  strange 
house  to  tell  it." 

"  In  a  moment,"  replied  Gerald.  "  Have  patience.  Believ- 
ing that  thoroughly,  I  have  come  in  the  last  twenty-four 
hours  to  a  decision.  That  this  happens  not  to  affect  my 
own  immediate  fortunes  does  not  seem  to  me  to  invalidate 
my  philosophy." 

He  carefully  unbuttoned  his  frock  coat,  crossed  his  legs, 
produced  a  paper  and  a  package  from  his  inside  pocket, 
and  eyed  the  two  before  him. 

"  I  have  here,"  he  went  on  suddenly,  "  marriage  papers 
duly  made  out ;  in  this  package  is  a  plain  gold  ring ;  in  the 
next  room  is  waiting,  by  prearrangement,  a  very  good 
friend  of  mine  in  the  clergy.  Personally  I  am  at  your  dis- 
posal." 

He  looked  at  tbem  expectantly. 


182  THE    RIVERMAN 

"The  very  thing!"  "Oh,  no!"  cried  Orde  and  Carroll 
in  unison. 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this  divergence  of  opinion,  ten 
minutes  later  the  three  passed  through  the  door  into  the 
back  apartment — Carroll  still  hesitant,  Orde  in  triumph, 
Gerald  as  correct  and  unemotional  as  ever. 

In  this  back  room  they  found  waiting  a  young  clergy- 
man conversing  easily  with  two  young  girls.  At  the  sight 
of  Carroll,  these  latter  rushed  forward  and  overwhelmed 
her  with  endearments.  Carroll  broke  into  a  quickly  sup- 
pressed sob  and  clasped  them  close  to  her. 

"  Oh,  you  dears !  "  she  cried,  "  I'm  so  glad  you're  here!  " 
She  flashed  a  grateful  look  in  Gerald's  direction,  and  a 
moment  later  took  occasion  to  press  his  arm  and  whisper: 

"  You've  thought  of  everything !  You're  the  dearest 
brother  in  the  world ! " 

Gerald  received  this  calmly,  and  set  about  organising  the 
ceremony.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  little  party  separated  at 
the  front  door,  amid  a  chatter  of  congratulations  and  good 
wishes.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Orde  entered  the  cab  and  drove 
away.  * 


XX 

OH,  it  is  the  best  way,  dear,  after  all !  "  cried  Carroll, 
pressing  close  to  her  husband.  "  A  few  minutes 
ago  I  was  all  doubts  and  fears,  but  now  I  feel  so 
safe  and  settled,"  she  laughed  happily.  "  It  is  as  though  I 
had  belonged  to  you  always,  you  old  Rock  of  Gibraltar! 
and  anything  that  happens  now  will  come  from  the  out- 
side, and  not  from  the  inside,  won't  it,  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sweetheart,"  said  Orde. 

"  Poor  mother !  I  wonder  how  she'll  take  it." 

"  We'll  soon  know,  anyway,"  replied  Orde,  a  little 
grimly. 

In  the  hallway  of  the  Bishop  house  Orde  kissed  her. 

"  Be  brave,  sweetheart,"  said  he,  "  but  remember  that 
now  you're  my  wife." 

She  nodded  at  him  gravely  and  disappeared. 

Orde  sat  in  the  dim  parlour  for  what  seemed  to  be  an 
interminable  period.  Occasionally  the  sounds  of  distant 
voices  rose  to  his  ear  and  died  away  again.  The  front 
door  opened  to  admit  some  one,  but  Orde  could  not  see 
who  it  was.  Twice  a  scurrying  of  feet  overhead  seemed  to 
indicate  the  bustle  of  excitement.  The  afternoon  waned.  A 
faint  whiff  of  cooking,  escaping  through  some  carelessly 
open  door,  was  borne  to  his  nostrils.  It  grew  dark,  but  the 
lamps  remained  unlighted.  Finally  he  heard  the  rustle  of 
the  portieres,  and  turned  to  see  the  dim  form  of  the  gen- 
eral standing  there. 

"  Bad  business !  bad  business !  "  muttered  the  old  man. 
0  It's  very  hard  on  me.  Perhaps  you  did  the  right  thing — 

183 


184  THE    RIVERMAN 

you  must  be  good  to  her — but  I  cannot  countenance  this 
affair.  It  was  most  high-handed,  sir ! " 

The  portieres  fell  again,  and  he  disappeared. 

Finally,  after  another  interval,  Carroll  returned.  She 
went  immediately  to  the  gas-fixture,  which  she  lit.  Orde 
then  saw  that  she  was  sobbing  violently.  She  came  to  him, 
and  for  a  moment  hid  her  face  against  his  breast.  He  patted 
her  hair,  waiting  for  her  to  speak.  After  a  little  she  con- 
trolled herself. 

"  How  was  it  ?  "  asked  Orde,  then. 

She  shivered. 

"  I  never  knew  people  could  be  so  cruel,"  she  com- 
plained in  almost  a  bewildered  manner.  "  Jack,  we  must  go 
to-night.  She — she  has  ordered  me  out  of  the  house,  and 
says  she  never  wants  to  see  my  face  again."  She  broke 
down  for  a  second.  "  Oh,  Jack !  she  can't  mean  that.  I've 
always  been  a  good  daughter  to  her.  And  she's  very  bitter 
against  Gerald.  Oh!  I  told  her  it  wasn't  his  fault,  but  she 
won't  listen.  She  sent  for  that  odious  Mr.  Merritt — her  rec- 
tor, you  know — and  he  supported  her.  I  believe  he's  angry 
because  we  did  not  go  to  him.  Could  you  believe  such  a 
thing!  And  she's  shut  herself  up  in  her  air  of  high  virtue, 
and  underneath  it  she's,  oh,  so  angry ! " 

"  Well,  it's  natural  she  should  be  upset,"  comforted  Orde. 
"  Don't  think  too  much  of  what  she  does  now.  Later  she'll 
get  over  it." 

Carroll  shivered  again. 

"You  don't  know,  dear,  and  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you. 
Why,"  she  cried,  "  she  told  me  that  you  and  I  were  in  a 
conspiracy  to  drive  her  to  her  grave  so  we  could  get  hev 
money !  " 

"  She  must  be  a  little  crazy,"  said  Orde,  still  pacifically. 

"  Come,  help  me,"  said  Carroll.  "  I  must  get  my  things." 

"  Can't  you  just  pack  a  bag  and  leave  the  rest  until  to- 
morrow ?  It's  about  hungry  time." 


THE    RIVERMAN  185 

"  She  says  I  must  take  every  stitch  belonging  to  me  to- 
night." 

They  packed  trunks  until  late  that  night,  quite  alone.  Ger- 
ald had  departed  promptly  after  breaking  the  news,  prob- 
ably without  realising  to  what  a  pass  affairs  would  come. 
A  frightened  servant,  evidently  in  disobedience  of  orders 
and  in  fear  of  destruction,  brought  them  a  tray  of  food, 
which  she  put  down  on  a  small  table  and  hastily  fled.  In 
c.  room  down  the  hall  they  could  hear  the  murmur  of  voices 
where  Mrs.  Bishop  received  spiritual  consolation  from  her 
adviser.  When  the  trunks  were  packed,  Orde  sent  for  a 
baggage  waggon.  Carroll  went  silently  from  place  to  place, 
saying  farewell  to  such  of  her  treasures  as  she  had  mada 
up  her  mind  to  leave.  Orde  scribbled  a  note  to  Gerald, 
requesting  him  to  pack  up  the  miscellanies  and  send  them 
to  Michigan  by  freight.  The  baggage  man  and  Orde  car- 
ried the  trunks  downstairs.  No  one  appeared.  Carroll  and 
Orde  walked  together  to  the  hotel.  Next  morning  an  inter^ 
view  with  Gerald  confirmed  them  in  their  resolution  of  im- 
mediate departure. 

"  She  is  set  in  her  opposition  now,  and  at  present  she 
believes  firmly  that  her  influence  will  separate  you.  Such  a 
state  of  mind  cannot  be  changed  in  an  hour." 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  Carroll. 

"  Oh,  I,"  he  shrugged,  "  will  go  on  as  usual.  I  have  my 
interests." 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  out  in  our  part  of  the  country," 
ventured  Orde. 

Gerald  smiled  his  fine  smile. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  he.  "  Going  to  a  train  is  useless,  and  a 
bore  to  everybody." 

Carroll  threw  herself  on  his  neck  in  an  access  of  passion- 
ate weeping. 

"  You  will  write  and  tell  me  of  everything,  won't  you  ?  " 
she  begged. 


1 86  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Of  course.  There  now,  good-bye." 

Orde  followed  him  into  the  hall. 

"  It  would  be  quite  useless  to  attempt  another  inter- 
view ?  "  he  inquired. 

Gerald  made  a  little  mouth. 

"  I  am  in  the  same  predicament  as  yourselves,"  said  he, 
"  and  have  since  nine  this  morning  taken  up  my  quarters 
at  the  club.  Please  do  not  tell  Carroll;  it  would  only  pain 
her." 

At  the  station,  just  before  they  passed  in  to  the  train, 
the  general  appeared. 

"  There,  there !  "  he  fussed.  "If  your  mother  should  hear 
of  my  being  here,  it  would  be  a  very  bad  business,  very 
bad.  This  is  very  sad;  but — well,  good-bye,  dear;  and  you, 
sir,  be  good  to  her.  And  write  your  daddy,  Carroll.  He'll 
be  lonesome  for  you."  He  blew  his  nose  very  loudly  and 
wiped  his  glasses.  "  Now,  run  along,  run  along,"  he  hur- 
ried them.  "  Let  us  not  have  any  scenes.  Here,  my  dear, 
open  this  envelope  when  you  are  well  started.  It  may  help 
cheer  the  journey.  Not  a  word ! " 

He  hurried  them  through  the  gate,  paying  no  heed  to 
what  they  were  trying  to  say.  Then  he  steamed  away  and 
bustled  into  a  cab  without  once  looking  back. 

When  the  train  had  passed  the  Harlem  River  and  was 
swaying  its  uneven  way  across  the  open  country,  Carroll 
opened  the  envelope.  It  contained  a  check  for  a  thousand 
dollars. 

"  Dear  old  daddy !  "  she  murmured.  "  Our  only  wedding- 
present  ! " 

"  You  are  the  capitalist  of  the  family,"  said  Orde.  "  You 
don't  know  how  poor  a  man  you've  married.  I  haven't 
much  more  than  the  proverbial  silver  watch  and  bad 
nickel." 

She  reached  out  to  press  his  hand  in  reassurance.  He 
compared  it  humorously  with  his  own. 


THE   RIVERMAN  187 

"What  a  homely,  knotted,  tanned  old  thing  it  is  by 
yours,"  said  he. 

"  It's  a  strong  hand,"  she  replied  soberly,  "  it's  a  dear 
hand."  Suddenly  she  snatched  it  up  and  pressed  it  for  a 
fleeting  instant  against  her  cheek,  looking  at  him  half 
ashamed. 


XXI 

THE  winter  months  were  spent  at  Monrovia,  where 
Orde  and  his  wife  lived  for  a  time  at  the  hotel.  This 
was  somewhat  expensive,  but  Orde  was  not  quite 
ready  to  decide  on  a  home,  and  he  developed  unexpected 
opposition  to  living  at  Redding  in  the  Orde  homestead. 

"  No,  I've  been  thinking  about  it,"  he  told  Grandma 
Orde.  "  A  young  couple  should  start  out  on  their  own  re- 
sponsibility. I  know  you'd  be  glad  to  have  us,  but  I  think 
it's  better  the  other  way.  Besides,  I  must  be  at  Monrovia 
a  good  deal  of  the  time,  and  I  want  Carroll  with  me. 
She  can  make  you  a  good  long  visit  in  the  spring,  when 
I  hav£  to  go  up  river." 

To  this  Grandma  Orde,  being  a  wise  old  lady,  had  to 
nod  her  assent,  although  she  would  much  have  liked  her 
son  near  her. 

At  Monrovia,  then,  they  took  up  their  quarters.  Carroll 
soon  became  acquainted  with  the  life  of  the  place.  Mon- 
rovia, like  most  towns  of  its  sort  and  size,  consisted  o£ 
an  upper  stratum  of  mill  owners  and  lumber  operators, 
possessed  of  considerable  wealth,  some  cultivation,  and  defi- 
nite social  ideas;  a  gawky,  countrified,  middle  estate  of 
storekeepers,  catering  both  to  the  farm  and  local  trade: 
and  the  lumber  mill  operatives,  generally  of  Holland  ex 
traction,  who  dwelt  in  simple  unpainted  board  shanties. 
The  class  first  mentioned  comprised  a  small  coterie,  among 
whom  Carroll  soon  found  two  or  three  congenials — Edith 
Fuller,  wife  of  the  young  cashier  in  the  bank;  Valerie 
Cathcart,  whose  husband  had  been  ki/fcd  in  the  Civil  War; 

ttt 


THE   RIVERMAN  189 

Clara  Taylor,  wife  of  the  leading  young  lawyer  of  the 
village;  and,  strangely  enough,  Mina  Heinzman,  the  six- 
teen-year-old daughter  of  old  Heinzman,  the  lumberman. 
Nothing  was  more  indicative  of  the  absolute  divorce  of 
business  and  social  life  than  the  unbroken  evenness  of  Car- 
roll's friendship  for  the  younger  girl.  Though  later  the 
old  German  and  Orde  locked  in  serious  struggle  on  the 
river,  they  continued  to  meet  socially  quite  as  usual;  and 
the  daughter  of  one  and  the  wife  of  the  other  never  sus- 
pected anything  out  of  the  ordinary.  This  impersonality  of 
struggle  has  always  been  characteristic  of  the  pioneer  busi- 
ness man's  good-nature. 

Newmark  received  the  news  of  his  partner's  sudden  mar- 
riage without  evincing  any  surprise,  but  with  a  sardonic 
gleam  in  one  corner  of  his  eye.  He  called  promptly,  con- 
versed politely  for  a  half  hour,  and  then  took  his  leave. 

"  How  do  you  like  him  ? "  asked  Orde,  when  he  had 
gone. 

"  He  looks  like  a  very  shrewd  man,"  replied  Carroll, 
picking  her  words  for  fear  of  saying  the  wrong  thing. 

Orde  laughed. 

"  You  don't  like  him,"  he  stated. 

"  I  don't  dislike  him,"  said  Carroll.  "  I've  not  a  thing 
against  him.  But  we  could  never  be  in  the  slightest  degree 
sympathetic.  He  and  I  don't — don't " 

"Don't  jibe,"  Orde  finished  for  her.  "I  didn't  much 
think  you  would.  Joe  never  was  much  of  a  society  bug." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Carroll's  tongue  to  reply  that  "  so- 
ciety bugs  "  were  not  the  only  sort  she  could  appreciate, 
but  she  refrained.  She  had  begun  to  realise  the  extent  of 
her  influence  over  her  husband's  opinion. 

Newmark  did  not  live  at  the  hotel.  Early  in  the  fall  he 
had  rented  a  small  one-story  house  situated  just  off  Main 
Street,  set  well  back  from  the  sidewalk  among  clumps  of 
oleanders.  Into  this  he  retired  as  a  snail  into  its  shell.  At 


190  THE   RIVERMAN 

first  he  took  his  meals  at  the  hotel,  but  later  he  imported 
an  impassive,  secretive  man-servant,  who  took  charge  of 
him  completely.  Neither  master  nor  man  made  any  friends, 
and  in  fact  rebuffed  all  advances.  One  Sunday,  Carroll  and 
Orde,  out  for  a  walk,  passed  this  quaint  little  place,  with 
its  picket  fence. 

"  Let's  go  in  and  return  Joe's  call,"  suggested  Orde. 

Their  knock  at  the  door  brought  the  calm  valet. 

"  Mr.  Newmark  is  h'out,  sir,"  said  he.  "  Yes,  sir,  I'll  tell 
him  that  you  called." 

They  turned  away.  As  they  sauntered  down  the  little 
brick-laid  walk,  Carroll  suddenly  pressed  close  to  her  hus- 
band's arm. 

"  Jack,"  she  begged,  "  I  want  a  little  house  like  that, 
for  our  very  own." 

"  We  can't  afford  it,  sweetheart." 

"  Not  to  own,"  she  explained,  "  just  to  rent.  It  will  be 
next  best  to  having  a  home  of  our  own." 

"  We'd  have  to  have  a  girl,  dear,"  said  Orde,  "  and  we 
can't  even  afford  that,  yet." 

"  A  girl !  "  cried  Carroll  indignantly.  "  For  us  two !  " 

"  You  couldn't  do  the  housework  and  the  cooking,"  sai4l 
Orde.  "  You've  never  done  such  a  thing  in  your  life,  and 
I  won't  have  my  little  girl  slaving." 

"  It  won't  be  slaving,  it  will  be  fun — just  like  play- 
housekeeping,"  protested  Carroll.  "  And  I've  got  to  learn 
some  time.  I  was  brought  up  most  absurdly,  and  I  realise 
it  now." 

"We'll  see,"  said  Orde  vaguely. 

The  subject  was  dropped  for  the  time  being.  Later  Car- 
roll brought  it  up  again.  She  was  armed  with  several  sheets 
of  hotel  stationery,  covered  with  figures  showing  how  much 
cheaper  it  would  be  to  keep  house  than  to  board. 

"  You  certainly  make  out  a  strong  case — on  paper," 
laughed  Orde.  "If  you  buy  a  rooster  and  a  hen,  and  she 


THE    RIVERMAN  191 

raises  two  broods,  at  the  end  of  a  year  you'll  have  twenty- 
six;  and  if  they  all  breed — even  allowing  half  roosters — 
you'll  have  over  three  hundred ;  and  if  they  all  breed,  you'll 
have  about  thirty-five  hundred;  and  if " 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  cried  Carroll,  covering  her  ears. 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Orde  equably,  "  but  that's  the  way 
it  figures.  Funny  the  earth  isn't  overrun  with  chickens, 
isn't  it?" 

She  thrust  her  tables  of  figures  into  her  desk  drawer. 

"  You're  just  making  fun  of  me  always,"  she  said  re- 
proachfully. 

Two  days  later  Orde  took  her  one  block  up  the  street 
to  look  at  a  tiny  little  house  tucked  on  a  fifty- foot  lot 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  church. 

"  It's  mighty  little,"  said  he.  "  I'll  have  to  go  out  in  the 
hall  to  change  my  collar,  and  we  couldn't  have  more  than 
two  people  at  a  time  to  call  on  us." 

"  It's  a  dear ! "  said  she,  "  and  I'm  not  so  e-nor-mous 
myself,  whatever  you  may  be." 

They  ended  by  renting  the  little  house,  and  Carroll  took 
charge  of  it  delightedly.  What  difficulties  she  overcame, 
and  what  laughable  and  cryable  mistakes  she  made  only 
those  who  have  encountered  a  like  situation  could  realise. 
She  learned  fast,  however,  and  took  a  real  pride  in  her 
tiny  box  of  a  home.  A  piano  was,  of  course,  out  of  the 
question,  but  the  great  golden  harp  occupied  one  corner, 
or  rather  one  side,  of  the  parlour.  Standing  thus  en- 
shrouded in  its  covering,  it  rather  resembled  an  august' 
and  tremendous  veiled  deity.  To  Carroll's  great  delight, 
Orde  used  solemnly  to  go  down  on  all  fours  and  knock 
his  forehead  thrice  on  the  floor  before  it  when  he  entered 
the  house  at  evening.  When  the  very  cold  weather  came 
and  they  had  to  light  the  base-burner  stove,  which  Orde 
stoutly  maintained  occupied  all  the  other  half  of  the  par- 
lour, the  harp's  delicate  constitution  necessitated  its  stand- 


192  THE    RIVERMAN 

ing  in  the  hall.  Nevertheless,  Carroll  had  great  comfort 
from  it.  While  Orde  was  away  at  the  office,  she  whispered 
through  its  mellow  strings  her  great  happiness,  the  dreams 
for  her  young  motherhood  which  would  come  in  the  sum- 
mer, the  vague  and  lingering  pain  over  the  hapless  but 
beloved  ones  she  had  left  behind  her  in  her  other  life.  Then 
she  arose  refreshed,  and  went  about  the  simple  duties  of 
her  tiny  domain. 

The  winter  was  severe.  All  the  world  was  white.  The 
piles  of  snow  along  the  sidewalks  grew  until  Carroll  could 
hardly  look  over  them.  Great  fierce  winds  swept  in  from 
the  lake.  Sometimes  Orde  and  his  wife  drove  two  miles 
to  the  top  of  the  sand  hills,  where  first  the?  had  met  in 
this  their  present  home,  and  looked  out  beyond  the  tumbled 
shore  ice  to  the  steel-gray,  angry  waters.  The  wind  pricked 
their  faces,  and,  going  home,  the  sleigh-bell*  jingled,  the 
snowballs  from  the  horses'  hoofs  hit  against  the  dash,  the 
cold  air  seared  the  inside  of  their  nostrils.  When  Ore 3 
helped  Carroll  from  beneath  the  warm  buffalo  robes,  she 
held  up  to  him  a  face  glowing  with  colour,  framed  in  the 
soft  fluffy  fur  of  a  hood. 

"  You  darling !  "  he  cried,  and  stooped  to  kiss  her  smooth, 
cold  cheek. 

When  he  had  returned  from  the  stable  around  the  cor- 
ner, he  found  the  lit  lamp  throwing  its  modified  light  and 
shade  over  the  little  round  table.  He  shook  down  the  base- 
burner  vigorously,  thrust  several  billets  of  wood  in  its 
door,  and  turned  to  meet  her  eyes  across  the  tabta 

"Kind  of  fun  being  married,  isn't  it?"  said  he. 

"  Kind  of,"  she  admitted,  nodding  gravely. 

The  business  of  the  firm  was  by  now  about  in  shape. 
All  the  boom  arrangements  had  been  made;  the  tvo  tugs 
were  in  the  water  and  their  machinery  installed;  supplies 
and  equipments  were  stored  away ;  the  foremen  of  the  crews 
engaged,  and  the  crews  themselves  pretty  well  picked  out. 


THE   RIVERMAN  193 

Only  there  needed  to  build  the  wanigan,  and  to  cart  in 
the  supplies  for  the  upper  river  works  before  the  spring 
break-up  and  the  almost  complete  disappearance  of  the 
roads.  Therefore,  Orde  had  the  good  fortune  of  unusual 
leisure  to  enjoy  these  first  months  with  his  bride.  They 
entered  together  the  Unexplored  Country,  and  found  it 
more  wonderful  than  they  had  dreamed.  Almost  before 
they  knew  it,  January  and  February  had  flown. 

"  We  must  pack  up,  sweetheart,"  said  Orde. 

"  It's  only  yesterday  that  we  came,"  she  cried  regret- 
fully. 

They  took  the  train  for  Redding,  were  installed  in  the 
gable  room,  explored  together  for  three  days  the  delights 
of  the  old-fashioned  house,  the  spicy  joys  of  Grandma 
Orde's  and  Amanda's  cookery,  the  almost  adoring  adula- 
tion of  the  old  folks.  Then  Orde  packed  his  "turkey," 
assumed  his  woods  clothes,  and  marched  off  down  the  street 
carrying  his  bag  on  his  back. 

"  He  looks  like  an  old  tramp  in  that  rig,"  said  Grandma 
Orde,  closing  the  storm  door. 

"  He  looks  like  a  conqueror  of  wildernesses !  "  cried  Car- 
roll, straining  her  eyes  after  his  vanishing  figure.  Suddenly 
she  darted  after  him,  calling  in  her  high,  bird-like  tones. 
He  turned  and  came  back  to  her.  She  clasped  him  by  the 
shoulders,  reluctant  to  let  him  go. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said  at  last.  "  You'll  take  better  care 
of  my  sweetheart  than  you  ever  did  of  Jack  Orde,  won't 
you,  dear?" 


XXII 

ORDE  had  reconnoitred  the  river  as  a  general  re- 
connoitres his  antagonist,  and  had  made  his  dis- 
positions as  the  general  disposes  of  his  army,  his 
commissary,  his  reserves.  At  this  point  five  men  could  keep 
the  river  clear ;  at  that  rapid  it  would  require  twenty ;  there 
a  dozen  would  suffice  for  ordinary  contingencies,  and  yet 
an  emergency  might  call  for  thirty — those  thirty  must  not 
be  beyond  reach.  In  his  mind's  eye  Ke  apportioned  the 
sections  of  the  upper  river.  Among  the  remoter  wildernesses 
every  section  must  have  its  driving  camp.  The  crews  of  each, 
whether  few  or  many,  would  be  expected  to  keep  clear 
and  running  their  own  "  beats  "  on  the  river.  As  fast  as  the 
rear  crew  should  overtake  these  divisions,  either  it  would 
absorb  them  or  the  members  of  them  would  be  thrown 
forward  beyond  the  lowermost  beat,  to  take  charge  of  a 
new  division  down  stfeam.  When  the  settled  farm  country 
or  the  little  towns  were  reached,  many  of  the  driving 
camps  would  become  unnecessary;  the  men  could  be 
boarded  out  at  farms  lying  in  their  beats.  A  continual 
advance  would  progress  toward  the  Lake,  the  drive  crews 
passing  and  repassing  each  other  like  pigeons  in  the  sown 
fields.  Each  of  these  sections  would  be  in  charge  of  a  fore- 
man, whose  responsibility  ceased  with  the  delivery  of  the 
logs  to  the  men  next  below.  A  walking  boss  would  trudge 
continually  the  river  trail,  or  ride  the  logs  down  stream, 
holding  the  correlation  of  these  many  units.  Orde  himself 
would  drive  up  and  down  the  river,  overseeing  the  whole 
plan  of  campaign,  throwing  the  camps  forward,  concen- 

194 


THE    RIVERMAN  195 

frating  his  forces  here,  spreading  them  elsewhere,  keeping 
accurately  in  mind  the  entire  situation  so  that  he  could  say 
with  full  confidence:  "Open  Dam  Number  One  for  three 
hours  at  nine  o'clock;  Dam  Number  Two  for  two  hours 
and  a  half  at  ten  thirty,"  and  so  on  down  the  line;  sure 
that  the  flood  waters  thus  released  would  arrive  at  the 
right  moment,  would  supplement  each  other,  and  would  so 
space  themselves  as  to  accomplish  the  most  work  with  the 
least  waste.  In  that  one  point  more  than  in  any  other 
showed  the  expert.  The  water  was  his  ammunition,  a  defi- 
nite and  limited  quantity  of  it.  To  "  get  the  logs  out  with 
the  water  "  was  the  last  word  of  praise  to  be  said  for  the 
river  driver.  The  more  logs,  the  greater  the  glory. 

Thus  it  can  readily  be  seen,  this  matter  was  rather  a 
campaign  than  a  mere  labour,  requiring  the  .  '•en,  the  muni- 
tions, the  organisation,  the  tactical  ability,  the  strategy,  the 
resourcefulness,  the  boldness,  and  the  executive  genius  of 
a  military  commander. 

To  all  these  things,  and  to  the  distribution  of  supplies 
and  implements  among  the  various  camps,  Orde  had  at- 
tended. The  wanigan  for  the  rear  crew  was  built.  The  fore- 
men and  walking  boss  had  been  picked  out.  Everything 
was  in  readiness.  Orde  was  satisfied  with  the  situation  ex- 
cept that  he  found  himself  rather  short-handed.  He  had 
counted  on  three  hundred  men  for  his  crews,  but  scrape 
and  scratch  as  he  would,  he  was  unable  to  gather  over 
two  hundred  and  fifty.  This  matter  was  not  so  serious, 
however,  as  later,  when  the  woods  camps  should  break  up, 
he  would  be  able  to  pick  up  more  workmen. 

•'  They  won't  be  rivermen  like  my  old  crew,  though," 
said  Orde  regretfully  to  Tom  North,  the  walking  boss. 
"  I'd  like  to  steal  a  few  from  some  of  those  Muskegon 
outfits." 

Until  the  logs  should  be  well  adrift,  Orde  had  resolved 
to  boss  the  rear  crew  himself. 


196  THE   RIVERMAN 

As  the  rear  was  naturally  the  farthest  up  stream,  Orde 
had  taken  also  the  contract  to  break  the  rollways  belong- 
ing to  Carlin,  which  in  the  season's  work  would  be  piled 
up  on  the  bank.  Thus  he  could  get  to  work  immediately  at 
the  break-up,  and  without  waiting  for  some  one  else.  The 
seven  or  eight  million  feet  of  lumber  comprised  in  Carlin's 
drive  would  keep  the  men  below  busy  until  the  other  own- 
ers, farther  down  and  up  the  tributaries,  should  also  have 
put  their  season's  cut  afloat. 

The  ice  went  out  early,  to  Orde's  satisfaction.  As  soon 
as  the  river  ran  clear  in  its  lower  reaches  he  took  his  rear 
crew  in  to  Carlin's  rollways. 

This  crew  was  forty  in  number,  and  had  been  picked 
from  the  best — a  hard-bitten,  tough  band  of  veterans, 
weather  beaten,  scarred  in  numerous  fights  or  by  the  back- 
woods scourge  of  small-pox,  compact,  muscular,  fearless, 
loyal,  cynically  aloof  from  those  not  of  their  cult,  out- 
spoken and  free  to  criticise — in  short,  men  to  do  great 
things  under  the  strong  leader,  and  to  mutiny  at  the  end 
of  three  days  under  the  weak.  They  piled  off  the  train  at 
Sawyer's,  stamped  their  feet  on  the  board  platform  of  the 
station,  shouldered  their  "  turkeys,"  and  straggled  off  down 
the  tote-road.  It  was  an  eighteen-mile  walk  in.  The  ground 
had  loosened  its  frost.  The  footing  was  ankle-deep  in  mud 
and  snow-water. 

Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  the  breaking  of  the  roll- 
ways  began.  During  the  winter  the  logs  had  been  hauled 
down  ice  roads  to  the  river,  where  they  were  "  banked  " 
in  piles  twenty,  and  even  thirty,  feet  in  height.  The  bed 
of  the  stream  itself  was  filled  with  them  for  a  mile,  save 
in  a  narrow  channel  left  down  through  the  middle  to 
allow  for  some  flow  of  water;  the  banks  were  piled  with 
them,  side  on,  ready  to  roll  down  at  the  urging  of  the 
men. 

First  of  all,  the  entire  crew  set  itself,  by  means  of  its 


THE   RIVERMAN  197 

peavies,  to  rolling  the  lower  logs  into  the  current,  where 
they  were  rapidly  borne  away.  As  the  waters  were  now 
at  flood,  this  was  a  quick  and  easy  labour.  Occasionally 
some  tiers  would  be  stuck  together  by  ice,  in  which  case 
considerable  prying  and  heaving  was  necessary  in  order 
to  crack  them  apart.  But  forty  men,  all  busily  at  work, 
soon  had  the  river  full.  Orde  detailed  some  «six  or  eight 
to  drop  below  in  order  that  the  river  might  run  clear  to 
the  next  section,  where  the  next  crew  would  take  up  the 
task.  These  men,  quite  simply,  walked  to  the  edges  of  the 
rollway,  rolled  a  log  apiece  into  the  water,  stepped  aboard, 
leaned  against  their  peavies,  and  were  swept  away  by  the 
swift  current.  The  logs  on  which  they  stood  whirled  in 
the  eddies,  caromed  against  other  timbers,  slackened  speed, 
shot  away;  never  did  the  riders  alter  their  poses  of  easy 
equilibrium.  From  time  to  time  one  propelled  his  craft 
ashore  by  hookirg  to  and  pushing  against  other  logs.  There 
he  stood  on  some  prominent  point,  leaning  his  chin  con- 
templatively against  the  thick  shaft  of  his  peavy,  watching 
the  endless  procession  of  the  logs  drifting  by.  Apparently 
he  was  idle,  but  in  reality  his  eyes  missed  no  shift  of  the 
ordered  ranks.  When  a  slight  hitch  or  pause,  a  subtle 
change  in  the  pattern  of  the  brown  carpet  caught  his  at- 
tention, he  sprang  into  life.  Balancing  his  peavy  across  his 
body,  he  made  his  way  by  short  dashes  to  the  point  of 
threatened  congestion.  There,  working  vigorously,  swept 
down  stream  with  the  mass,  he  pulled,  hauled,  and  heaved, 
forcing  the  heavy,  reluctant  timbers  from  the  cohesion  that 
threatened  trouble  later.  Oblivious  to  his  surroundings,  he 
wrenched  and  pried  desperately.  The  banks  of  the  river 
drifted  by.  Point  succeeded  point,  as  though  withdrawn 
up  stream  by  some  invisible  manipulator.  The  river  ap- 
peared stationary,  the  banks  in  motion.  Finally  he  heard 
at  his  elbow  the  voice  of  the  man  stationed  below  him, 
who  had  run  out  from  his  own  point. 


198  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Hullo,  Bill,"  he  replied  to  this  man,  "  you  old  slough 
hog!  Tie  into  this!" 

"  All  the  time !  "  agreed  Bill  cheerfully. 

In  a  few  moments  the  danger  was  averted,  the  logs  ran 
free.  The  rivermen  thereupon  made  their  uncertain  way 
back  to  shore,  where  they  took  the  river  trail  up  stream 
again  to  thev  respective  posts. 

At  noon  they  ate  lunches  they  had  brought  with  them 
in  little  canvas  bags,  snatched  before  they  left  the  roll- 
ways  from  a  supply  handy  by  the  cook.  In  the  meantime 
the  main  crew  were  squatting  in  the  lea  of  the  brush,  de- 
vouring a  hot  meal  which  had  been  carried  to  them  in 
wooden  boxes  strapped  to  the  backs  of  the  chore  boys. 
Down  the  river  and  up  its  tributaries  other  crews,  both 
in  the  employ  of  Newmark  &  Orde  and  of  others,  were 
also  pausing  from  their  cold  and  dangerous  toil.  The  river, 
refreshed  after  its  long  winter,  bent  its  mighty  back  to  the 
great  annual  burden  laid  upon  it. 

By  the  end  of  the  second  day  the  logs  actually  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream  had  been  shaken  loose,  and  a  large  pro- 
portion of  them  had  floated  entirely  from  sight.  It  now 
became  necessary  to  break  down  the  rollways  piled  along 
the  tops  of  the  banks. 

The  evening  of  this  day,  however,  Orde  received  a  visit 
from  Jim  Denning,  the  foreman  of  the  next  section  below, 
bringing  with  him  Charlie,  the  cook  of  Daly's  last  year's 
drive.  Leaving  him  by  the  larger  fire,  Jim  Denning  drew 
his  principal  one  side. 

"  This  fellow  drifted  in  to-night  two  days  late  after  a 
drunk,  and  he  tells  an  almighty  queer  story,"  said  he. 
"  He  says  a  crew  of  bad  men  from  the  Saginaw,  sixty 
strong,  have  been  sent  in  by  Heinzman.  He  says  Heinz- 
man  hired  them  to  come  over  not  to  work,  but  just  to 
fight  and  annoy  us." 

"That  so?"  said  Orde.  "Well,  where  are  they?" 


THE   RIVERMAN  199 

"  Don't  know.  But  he  sticks  by  his  story,  and  tells  it 
pretty  straight." 

"  Bring  him  over,  and  let's  hear  it,"  said  Orde. 

"  Hullo,  Charlie !  "  he  greeted  the  cook  when  the  latter 
stood  before  him.  "  What's  this  yarn  Jim's  telling  me  ?  " 

"  It's  straight,  Mr.  Orde,"  said  the  cook.  "  There's  a  big 
crew  brought  in  from  the  Saginaw  waters  to  do  yoj  up. 
They're  supposed  to  be  over  here  to  run  his  drive,  but 
really  they're  goin'  to  fight  and  raise  hell.  For  why  would 
he  want  sixty  men  to  break  out  them  little  rollways  of  his'n 
up  at  the  headwaters  ?  " 

"  Is  that  where  they've  gone  ?  "  asked  Orde  like  a  flash. 

"  Yes,  sir.  And  he  only  owns  a  '  forty '  up  there,  and  it 
ain't  more'n  half  cut,  anyway." 

"  I  didn't  know  he  owned  any." 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  bought  that  little  Johnson  piece  last  win- 
ter. I  been  workin'  up  there  with  a  little  two-horse  crew 
since  January.  We  didn't  put  up  more'n  a  couple  hundred 
thousand." 

"  Is  he  breaking  out  his  rollways  below  ?  "  Orde  asked 
Denning. 

"  No,  sir,"  struck  in  Charlie,  "  he  ain't." 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  be  so  wise  ?  "  inquired  Orde. 
"  Seems  to  me  you  know  about  as  much  as  old  man  Solo- 
mon." 

"  Well,"  explained  Charlie,  "  you  see  it's  like  this.  When 
I  got  back  from  the  woods  last  week,  I  just  sort  of  hap- 
pened into  McNeill's  place.  I  wasn't  drinkin'  a  drop ! "  he 
cried  virtuously,  in  answer  to  Orde's  smile. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Orde.  "  I  was  just  thinking  of  the 
last  time  we  were  in  there  together." 

"That's  just  it!"  cried  Charlie.  "They  was  always  sore 
at  you  about  that.  Well,  I  was  lyin'  on  one  of  those  there 
benches  back  of  the  'Merican  flags  in  the  dance  hall  'cause 
I  was  very  sleepy,  when  in  blew  old  man  Heinzman  and 


200  THE   RIVERMAN 

McNeill  himself.  I  just  lay  low  for  black  ducks  and  heard 
their  talk.  They  took  a  look  around,  but  didn't  see  no  one, 
so  they  opened  her  up  wide." 

"What  did  you  hear?"  asked  Orde. 

"  Well,  McNeill  he  agreed  to  get  a  gang  of  bad  ones 
from  the  Saginaw  to  run  in  on  the  river,  and  I  heard 
Heinzman  tell  him  to  send  'em  in  to  headwaters.  And  Mc- 
Neill said,  '  That's  all  right  about  the  cash,  Mr.  Heinzman, 
but  I  been  figgerin'  on  gettin'  even  with  Orde  for  some 
myself.' " 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  inquired  Orde. 

"  That's  about  all,"  confessed  Charlie. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  didn't  hire  them  to  carry  down 
his  drive  for  him?  He'd  need  sixty  men  for  his  lower 
rollways,  and  maybe  they  weren't  all  to  go  to  headwaters  ?  " 
asked  Orde  by  way  of  testing  Charlie's  beliefs. 

"  He's  payin'  them  four  dollars  a  day,"  replied  Charlie 
simply.  "  Now,  who'd  pay  that  fer  just  river  work?  " 

Orde  nodded  at  Jim  Denning. 

"  Hold  on,  Charlie,"  said  he.  "  Why  are  you  giving  all 
this  away  if  you  were  working  for  Heinzman  ?  " 

"  I'm  working  for  you  now,"  replied  Charlie  with  dig- 
nity. "And,  besides,  you  helped  me  out  once  your- 
self." 

"  I  guess  it's  a  straight  tip  all  right,"  said  Orde  to 
Denning,  when  the  cook  had  resumed  his  place  by  the 
fire. 

"  That's  what  I  thought.  That's  why  I  brought  him  up." 

"  If  that  crew's  been  sent  in  there,  it  means  only  one 
thing  at  that  end  of  the  line,"  said  Orde. 

"  Sure.  They're  sent  up  to  waste  out  the  water  in  the 
reservoir  and  hang  this  end  of  the  drive,"  replied  Denninp. 

"  Correct,"  said  Orde.  "  The  old  skunk  knows  his  owi: 
rollways  are  so  far  down  stream  that  he's  safe,  flood  wat«M 
or  no  flood  water." 


THE    RIVERMAN  201 

A  pause  ensued,  during  which  the  two  smoked  vigor- 
ously. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  asked  Denning 
at  last. 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  countered  Orde. 

"  Well,"  said  Denning  slowly,  and  with  a  certain  grim 
joy,  "  I  don't  bet  those  Saginaw  river-pigs  are  any  more 
two-fisted  than  the  boys  on  this  river.  I'd  go  up  and  clean 
'em  out." 

"  Won't  do,"  negatived  Orde  briefly.  "  In  the  first  place, 
as  you  know  very  well,  we're  short-handed  now,  and  we 
can't  spare  the  men  from  the  work.  In  the  second  place, 
we'd  hang  up  sure,  then ;  to  go  up  in  that  wilderness,  fifty 
miles  from  civilisation,  would  mean  a  first-class  row  of 
too  big  a  size  to  handle.  Won't  do ! " 

"  Suppose  you  get  a  lawyer,"  suggested  Denning  sar- 
castically. 

Orde  laughed  with  great  good-humour. 

"  Where'd  our  water  be  by  the  time  he  got  an  injunc- 
tion for  us?" 

He  fell  into  a  brown  study,  during  which  his  pipe  went 
out. 

"  Jim,"  he  said  finally,  "  it  isn't  a  fair  game.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  Delay  will  hang  us;  taking  men 
off  the  work  will  hang  us.  I've  just  got  to  go  up 
there  myself  and  see  what  can  be  done  by  talking  to 
\hern." 

"  Talking  to  them ! "  Denning  snorted.  "  You  might  as 
well  whistle  down  the  draught-pipe  of  hell !  If  they're  just 
up  there  for  a  row,  there'll  be  whisky  in  camp;  and  you 
can  bet  McNeill's  got  some  of  'em  instructed  on  your  ac- 
count. They'll  kill  you,  sure ! " 

"  I  agree  with  you  it's  risky,"  replied  Orde.  "  I'm  scared ; 
I'm  willing  to  admit  it.  But  I  don't  see  what  else  to  do. 
Of  course  he's  got  no  rights,  but  what  the  hell  good  does 


202  THE   RIVERMAN 

that  do  us  after  our  water  is  gone?  And  Jim,  my  son, 
if  we  hang  this  drive,  I'll  be  buried  so  deep  I  never  will 
dig  out.  No;  I've  got  to  go.  You  can  stay  up  here  in 
charge  of  the  rear  until  I  get  back.  Send  word  by  Charlie 
who's  to  boss  your  division  while  you're  gone." 


XXIII 

ORDE  tramped  back  to  Sawyer's  early  next  morning, 
hitched  into  the  light  buckboard  the  excellent  team 
with  which  later,  when  the  drive  should  spread  out, 
he  would  make  his  longest  jumps,  and  drove  to  head- 
waters. He  arrived  in  sight  of  the  dam  about  three  o'clock. 
At  the  edge  of  the  clearing  he  pulled  up  to  survey  the 
scene. 

A  group  of  three  small  log-cabins  marked  the  Johnson, 
and  later  the  Heinzman,  camp.  From  the  chimneys  a  smoke 
arose.  Twenty  or  thirty  rivermen  lounged  about  the  sunny 
side  of  the  largest  structure.  They  had  evidently  just  ar- 
rived, for  some  of  their  "  turkeys  "  were  still  piled  outside 
the  door.  Orde  clucked  to  his  horses,  and  the  spidery 
wheels  of  the  buckboard  swung  lightly  over  the  wet  hum- 
mocks of  the  clearing,  to  come  to  a  stop  opposite  the  men. 
Orde  leaned  forward  against  his  knees. 

"  Hullo,  boys !  "  said  he  cheerfully. 

No  one  replied,  though  two  or  three  nodded  surlily.  Orde 
looked  them  over  with  some  interest. 

They  were  a  dirty,  unkempt,  unshaven,  hard-looking  lot, 
with  bloodshot  eyes,  a  flicker  of  the  dare-devil  in  expres- 
sion, beyond  the  first  youth,  hardened  into  an  enduring 
toughness  of  fibre — bad  men  from  the  Saginaw,  in  truth, 
and,  unless  Orde  was  mistaken,  men  just  off  a  drunk,  and 
therefore  especially  dangerous;  men  eager  to  fight  at  the 
drop  of  the  hat,  or  sooner,  to  be  accommodating,  and  ready 
to  employ  in  their  assaults  all  the  formidable  and  terrifying 
weapons  of  the  rough-and-tumble;  reckless,  hard,  irrever' 


204  THE   RIVERMAN 

ent,  blasphemous,  to  be  gained  over  by  no  words,  fair  or 
foul;  absolutely  scornful  of  any  and  all  institutions  im- 
posed on  them  by  any  other  but  the  few  men  whom  they 
acknowledged  as  their  leaders.  And  to  master  these  men's 
respect  there  needed  either  superlative  strengtk,  superlative 
recklessness,  or  superlative  skill. 

"  Who's  your  boss  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"The  Rough  Red,"  growled  one  of  the  men  without 
moving. 

Orde  had  heard  of  this  man,  of  his  personality  and  his 
deeds.  Like  Silver  Jack  of  the  Muskegon,  his  exploits  had 
been  celebrated  in  song.  A  big,  broad-faced  man,  with  a 
red  beard,  they  had  told  him,  with  little,  flickering  eyes,  a 
huge  voice  that  bellowed  through  the  woods  in  a  torrent 
of  commands  and  imprecations,  strong  as  a  bull,  and  sav- 
age as  a  wild  beast.  A  hint  of  his  quality  will  suffice  from 
the  many  stories  circulated  about  him.  It  was  said  that 
while  jobbing  for  Morrison  &  Daly,  in  some  of  that  firm's 
Saginaw  Valley  holdings,  the  Rough  Red  had  discovered 
that  a  horse  had  gone  lame.  He  called  the  driver  of  that 
team  before  him,  seized  an  iron  starting  bar,  and  with  it 
broke  the  man's  leg.  "  Try  th'  lameness  yourself,  Barney 
Mallan,"  said  he.  To  appeal  to  the  charity  of  such  a  man 
would  be  utterly  useless.  Orde  saw  this  point.  He  picked 
up  his  reins  and  spoke  to  his  team. 

But  before  the  horses  had  taken  three  steps,  a  huge 
riverman  had  planted  himself  squarely  in  the  way.  The 
others  rising,  slowly  surrounded  the  rig. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  up  here  for,"  growled  the 
man  at  the  horses'  heads,  "  but  you  wanted  to  see  the 
boss,  and  I  guess  you'd  better  see  him." 

"  I  intend  to  see  him,"  said  Orde  sharply.  "  Get  out  of 
the  way  and  let  me  hitch  my  team." 

He  drove  deliberately  ahead,  forcing  the  man  to  step 
aside,  and  stopped  his  horses  by  a  stub.  He  tied  them  there 


THE   RIVERMAN  205 

and  descended,  to  lean  his  back  also  against  the  log  walls 
of  the  little  house. 

After  a  few  moments  a  huge  form  appeared  above  the 
river  bank  at  some  forty  rods'  distance. 

"  Yonder  he  comes  now,"  vouchsafed  the  man  nearest 
Orde. 

Orde  made  out  the  great  square  figure  of  the  boss,  his 
soft  hat,  his  flaming  red  beard,  his  dingy  mackinaw  coat, 
his  dingy  black-and-white  checked  flannel  shirt,  his  dingy 
blue  trousers  tucked  into  high  socks,  and,  instead  of  driv- 
ing boots,  his  ordinary  lumberman's  rubbers.  As  a  spot  of 
colour,  he  wore  a  flaming  red  knit  sash,  with  tassels.  Be- 
fore he  had  approached  near  enough  to  be  plainly  distin- 
guishable, he  began  to  bellow  at  the  men,  commanding 
them,  with  a  mighty  array  of  oaths,  to  wake  up  and  get 
the  sluice-gate  open.  In  a  moment  or  so  he  had  disappeared 
behind  some  bushes  that  intervened  in  his  approach  to  the 
house.  His  course  through  them  could  be  traced  by  the  top 
of  his  cap,  which  just  showed  above  them.  In  a  moment 
he  thrust  through  the  brush  and  stood  before  Orde. 

For  a  moment  he  stared  at  the  young  man,  and  then, 
with  a  wild  Irish  yell,  leaped  upon  him.  Orde,  caught  un- 
awares and  in  an  awkward  position,  was  hardly  able  even 
to  struggle  against  the  gigantic  riverman.  Indeed,  before 
he  had  recovered  his  faculties  to  the  point  of  offering 
determined  resistance,  he  was  pinned  back  against  the  wall 
by  his  shoulders,  and  the  Rough  Red's  face  was  within 
two  feet  of  his  own. 

"  And  how  are  ye,  ye  ould  darlint  ?  "  shouted  the  latter, 
with  a  roll  of  oaths. 

"  Why,  Jimmy  Bourke ! "  cried  Orde,  and  burst  into  a 
laugh. 

The  Rough  Red  jerked  him  to  his  feet,  delivered  a  bear 
hug  that  nearly  crushed  his  ribs,  and  pounded  him  might- 
ily on  the  back. 


206  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  You  ould  snoozer !  "  he  bellowed.  "  Where  the  blankety 
blank  in  blank  did  you  come  from?  Byes,"  he  shouted  to 
the  men,  "  it's  me  ould  boss  on  th'  Au  Sable  six  year  back — 
that  time,  ye  mind,  whin  we  had  th'  ice  jam!  Glory  be! 
but  I'm  glad  to  see  ye ! " 

Orde  was  still  laughing. 

"  I  didn't  know  you'd  turned  into  the  Rough  Red, 
Jimmy,"  said  he.  "  I  don't  believe  we  were  either  of  us 
old  enough  for  whiskers  then,  were  we?" 

The  Rough  Red  grinned. 

"  Thrue  for  ye !  "  said  he.  "  And  what  have  ye  been 
doing  all  these  years  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it,  Jimmy,"  said  Orde,  drawing  the  giant 
one  side,  out  of  ear-shot.  "  All  my  eggs  are  in  one  basket, 
and  it's  a  mean  trick  of  you  to  hire  out  for  filthy  lucre  to 
kick  that  basket." 

"  What  do  ye  mane  ?  "  asked  the  Rough  Red,  fixing  his 
twinkling  little  eyes  on  Orde. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  countered  Orde,  glancing 
down  at  the  other's  rubber-shod  feet,  "  that  this  crew  has 
been  sent  up  here  just  to  break  out  those  measly  little 
rollways  ?  " 

"  Thim?  "  said  the  Rough  Red.  "  Thim?  Hell,  no !  Thim's 
my  bodyguard.  They  can  lick  their  weight  in  wild  cats,  and 
I'd  loike  well  to  see  the  gang  of  highbankers  that  infists 
this  river  thry  to  pry  thim  out.  We  weren't  sint  here  to 
wurrk ;  we  were  sint  here  to  foight." 

"Fight?  Why?"  asked  Orde. 

"  Oh,  I  dunno,"  replied  the  Rough  Red  easily.  "  Me  boss 
and  the  blank  of  a  blank  blanked  blank  that's  attimptin' 
to  droive  this  river  has  some  sort  of  a  row." 

"  Jimmy,"  said  Orde,  "  didn't  you  know  that  I  am  the 
gentleman  last  mentioned  ?  " 

"What!" 

"  I'm  driving  this  river,  and  that's  my  dam-keeper  you've 


THE   RIVERMAN  207 

got  hid  away  somewhere  here,  and  that's  my  water  you're 
planning  to  waste !  " 

"What?"  repeated  the  Rough  Red,  but  in  a  different 
tone  of  voice. 

"That's  right,"  said  Orde. 

In  a  tone  of  vast  astonishment,  the  Rough  Red  men- 
tioned his  probable  deserts  in  the  future  life. 

"  Luk  here,  Jack,"  said  he  after  a  moment,  "  here's  a 
crew  of  white-water  birlers  that  ye  can't  beat  nowheres. 
What  do  you  want  us  to  do?  We're  now  gettin'  four  dol- 
lars a  day  an'  board  from  that  murderin'  ould  villain, 
Heinzman,  so  we  can  afford  to  wurrk  for  you  cheap." 

Orde  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  please  do  now,  darlint ! "  wheedled  the  Rough 
Red,  his  little  eyes  agleam  with  mischief.  "  Sind  us  some 
oakum  and  pitch  and  we'll  caulk  yure  wanigan  for  ye.  Or 
maybe  some  more  peavies,  and  we'll  hilp  ye  on  yure  roll- 
ways.  And  till  us,  afore  ye  go,  how  ye  want  this  dam, 
and  that's  the  way  she'll  be.  Come,  now,  dear!  and  ain't 
ye  short-handed  now  ?  " 

Orde  slapped  his  knee  and  laughed. 

"  This  is  sure  one  hell  of  a  joke !  "  he  cried. 

"  And  ain't  it  now  ?  "  said  the  Rough  Red,  smiling  with 
as  much  ingratiation  as  he  was  able. 

"  I'll  take  you  boys  on,"  said  Orde  at  last,  "  at  the  usual 
wages — dollar  and  a  half  for  the  jam,  three  for  the  rear. 
I  doubt  if  you'll  see  much  of  Heinzman's  money  when  this 
leaks  out." 


XXIV 

THUS  Orde,  by  the  sheer  good  luck  that  sometimes 
favours  men  engaged  in  large  enterprises,  not  only 
frustrated  a  plan  likely  to  bring  failure  to  his  in- 
terests, but  filled  up  his  crews.  It  may  be  remarked  here, 
as  well  as  later,  that  the  "  terrors  of  the  Saginaw  "  stayed 
with  the  drive  to  its  finish,  and  proved  reliable  and  tract- 
able in  every  particular.  Orde  scattered  them  judiciously, 
so  there  was  no  friction  with  the  local  men.  The  Rough 
Red  he  retained  on  the  rear. 

Here  the  breaking  of  the  rollways  had  reached  a  stage 
more  exciting  both  to  onlooker  and  participant  than  the 
mere  opening  of  the  river  channel.  Huge  stacks  of  logs 
piled  sidewise  to  the  bank  lined  the  stream  for  miles.  When 
the  lowermost  log  on  the  river  side  was  teased  and  pried 
out,  the  upper  tiers  were  apt  to  cascade  down  with  a  roar, 
a  crash,  and  a  splash.  The  man  who  had  done  the  prying 
had  to  be  very  quick-eyed,  very  cool,  and  very  agile  to 
avoid  being  buried  under  the  tons  of  timber  that  rushed 
down  on  him.  Only  the  most  reliable  men  were  permitted 
at  this  initial  breaking  down.  Afterwards  the  crew  rolled 
in  what  logs  remained. 

The  Rough  Red's  enormous  strength,  dare-devil  spirit, 
and  nimbleness  of  body  made  him  invaluable  at  this  dan- 
gerous work.  Orde,  too,  often  took  a  hand  in  some  of  the 
more  ticklish  situations.  In  old  days,  before  he  had  at- 
tained the  position  of  responsibility  that  raised  the  value 
of  his  time  beyond  manual  work,  he  had  been  one  of  the 
best  men  on  the  river  at  breaking  bank  rollways.  A  slim, 

908 


THE   RIVERMAN  209 

graceful,  handsome  boy  of  twenty,  known  as  "  Rollway 
Charlie,"  also  distinguished  himself  by  the  quickness  and 
certainty  of  his  work.  Often  the  men  standing  near  lost 
sight  of  him  entirely  in  the  spray,  the  confusion,  the  blur 
of  the  breaking  rollways,  until  it  seemed  certain  he  must 
have  perished.  Nevertheless,  always  he  appeared  at  right 
or  left,  sometimes  even  on  a  log  astreara,  nonchalant, 
smiling,  escaped  easily  from  the  destructive  power  he  had 
loosed.  Once  in  the  stream  the  logs  ran  their  appointed 
course,  watched  by  the  men  who  herded  them  on  their 
way.  And  below,  from  the  tributaries,  from  the  other 
rollways  a  never-ending  procession  of  recruits  joined 
this  great  brown  army  on  its  way  to  the  lake,  until 
for  miles  and  miles  the  river  was  almost  a  solid  mass 
of  logs. 

The  crews  on  the  various  beats  now  had  their  hands 
full  to  keep  the  logs  running.  The  slightest  check  at  any 
one  point  meant  a  jam,  for  there  was  no  way  of  stopping 
the  unending  procession.  The  logs  behind  floated  gently 
against  the  obstruction  and  came  to  rest.  The  brown  mass 
thickened.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  surface  of  the 
water  was  concealed.  And  then,  as  the  slow  pressure  de- 
veloped from  the  three  or  four  miles  of  logs  forced  against 
each  other  by  the  pushing  of  the  current,  the  breast  of 
the  jam  began  to  rise.  Timbers  up-ended,  crossed,  inter- 
locked, slid  one  over  the  other,  mounted  higher  and  higher 
in  the  formidable  game  of  jack-straws  the  loss  of  which 
spelled  death  to  the  players. 

Immediately,  and  with  feverish  activity,  the  men  nearest 
at  hand  attacked  the  work.  Logs  on  top  they  tumbled  and 
rolled  into  the  current  below.  Men  beneath  the  breast 
tugged  and  pried  in  search  of  the  key  logs  causing  all  the 
trouble.  Others  "  flattened  out  the  wings,"  hoping  to  get  a 
"  draw  "  around  the  ends.  As  the  stoppage  of  the  drive  indi- 
cated to  the  men  up  and  down  stream  that  a  jam  had  formed, 


210  THE   RIVERMAN 

they  gathered  at  the  scene — those  from  above  over  the  logs, 
those  from  below  up  the  river  trail. 

Rarely,  unless  in  case  of  unusual  complications,  did  it 
take  more  than  a  few  hours  at  most  to  break  the  jam.  The 
breast  of  it  went  out  with  a  rush.  More  slowly  the  wings 
sucked  in.  Reluctantly  the  mass  floating  on  the  surface  for 
miles  up  stream  stirred,  silently  moved  forward.  For  a  few 
minutes  it  was  necessary  to  watch  carefully  until  the  flow 
onward  steadied  itself,  until  the  congestion  had  spaced  and 
ordered  as  before.  Then  the  men  moved  back  to  their  posts ; 
the  drive  was  resumed.  At  night  the  river  was  necessarily 
left  to  its  own  devices.  Rivermen,  with  the  touch  of  super- 
stition inseparably  connected  with  such  affairs,  believe 
implicitly  that  "  logs  run  free  at  night."  Certainly,  though 
it  might  be  expected  that  each  morning  would  reveal  a 
big  jam  to  break,  such  was  rarely  the  case.  The  logs  had 
usually  stopped,  to  be  sure,  but  generally  in  so  peaceful  a 
situation  as  easily  to  be  started  on  by  a  few  minutes'  work. 
Probably  this  was  because  they  tended  to  come  to  rest  in 
the  slow,  still  reaches  of  the  river,  through  which,  in  day- 
time, they  would  be  urged  by  the  rivermen. 

Jams  on  the  river,  contrary  to  general  belief,  are  of  very 
common  occurrence.  Throughout  the  length  of  the  drive 
there  were  probably  three  or  four  hang-ups  a  day.  Each 
of  these  had  to  be  broken,  and  in  the  breaking  was  danger. 
The  smallest  misstep,  the  least  slowness  in  reading  the  signs 
of  the  break,  the  slightest  lack  of  promptness  in  acting  on 
the  hint  or  of  agility  in  leaping  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
plunging  timbers,  the  faintest  flicker  from  rigid  attention  to 
the  antagonist  crouching  on  the  spring,  would  mean  instant 
death  to  the  delinquent.  Thus  it  was  literally  true  that  each 
one  of  these  men  was  called  upon  almost  daily  to  wager  his 
personal  skill  against  his  destruction. 

In  the  meantime  the  rear  was  "  sacking  "  its  way  as  fast 
as  possible,  moving  camp  with  the  wanigan  whenever  nee- 


THE    RIVERMAN  211 

essary,  working  very  hard  and  very  cold  and  very  long. 
In  its  work,  however,  beyond  the  breaking  of  the  rollways, 
was  little  of  the  spectacular. 

Orde,  after  the  rear  was  well  started,  patrolled  the  length 
of  the  drive  in  his  light  buckboard.  He  had  a  first-class 
team  of  young  horses — high-spirited,  somewhat  fractious, 
but  capable  on  a  pinch  of  their  hundred  miles  in  a  day. 
He  handled  them  well  over  the  rough  corduroys  and  swamp 
roads.  From  jam  to  rear  and  back  again  he  travelled,  paus- 
ing on  the  river  banks  to  converse  earnestly  with  one  of 
the  foremen,  surveying  the  situation  with  the  bird's-eye 
view  of  the  general.  At  times  he  remained  at  one  camp  for 
several  days  watching  the  trend  of  the  work.  The  improve- 
ments made  during  the  preceding  summer  gave  him  the 
greatest  satisfaction,  especially  the  apron  at  the  falls. 

"  We'd  have  had  a  dozen  bad  jams  here  before  now  with 
all  these  logs  in  the  river,"  said  he  to  Tim  Nolan,  who  was 
in  charge  of  that  beat. 

"  And  as  it  is,"  said  Tim,  "  we've  had  but  the  one  little 
wing  jam." 

The  piers  to  define  the  channel  along  certain  shallows 
also  saved  the  rear  crew  much  labour  in  the  matter  of 
stranded  logs.  Everything  was  very  satisfactory.  Even  old 
man  Reed  held  to  his  chastened  attitude,  and  made  no 
trouble.  In  fact,  he  seemed  glad  to  turn  an  honest 
penny  by  boarding  the  small  crew  in  charge  of  sluicing 
the  logs. 

No  trouble  was  experienced  until  Heinzman's  rollways 
were  reached.  Here  Orde  had,  as  he  had  promised  his  part- 
ner, boomed  a  free  channel  to  prevent  Heinzman  from  fill- 
ing up  the  entire  river-bed  with  his  rollways.  When  the 
jam  of  the  drive  had  descended  the  river  as  far  as  this, 
Orde  found  that  Heinzman  had  not  yet  begun  to  break 
out.  Hardly  had  Orde's  first  crew  passed,  however,  when 
Heinzman's  men  began  to  break  down  the  logs  into  the 


212  THE    RIVERMAN 

drive.  Long  before  the  rear  had  caught  up,  all  Heinzman's 
drive  was  in  the  water,  inextricably  mingled  with  the  sixty 
or  eighty  million  feet  Orde  had  in  charge. 

The  situation  was  plain.  All  Heinzman  now  had  to  do 
was  to  retain  a  small  crew,  which  should  follow  after  the 
rear  in  order  to  sack  what  logs  the  latter  should  leave 
stranded.  This  amounted  practically  to  nothing.  As  it  was 
impossible  in  so  great  a  mass  of  timbers,  and  in  the  haste 
of  a  pressing  labour,  to  distinguish  or  discriminate  against 
any  single  brand,  Heinzman  was  in  a  fair  way  to  get  his 
logs  sent  down  stream  with  practically  no  expense. 

"Veil,  my  boy,"  remarked  the  German  quite  frankly  to 
Orde  as  they  met  on  the  road  one  day,  "  looks  like  I  got 
you  dis  time,  eh  ?  " 

Orde  laughed,  also  with  entire  good-humour. 

"  If  you  mean  your  logj  are  going  down  with  ours,  why 
I  guess  you  have.  But  you  paste  this  in  your  hat:  you're 
going  to  keep  awful  busy,  and  it's  going  to  cost  you  some- 
thing yet  to  get  'em  down." 

To  Newmark,  on  one  of  his  occasional  visits  to  the 
camps,  Orde  detailed  the  situation. 

"  It  doesn't  amount  to  much,"  said  he,  "  except  that  it 
complicates  matters.  We'll  make  him  scratch  gravel,  if  we 
have  to  sit  up  nights  and  work  overtime  to  do  it.  We 
can't  injure  him  or  leave  his  logs,  but  we  can  annoy  him 
a  lot." 

The  state  of  affairs  was  perfectly  well  known  to  the 
men,  and  the  entire  river  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
contest  The  drivers  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  (§)  logs,  and 
whenever  possible  thrust  them  aside  into  eddies  and  back- 
waters. This,  of  course,  merely  made  work  for  the  sackers 
Heinzman  had  left  above  the  rear.  Soon  they  were  in 
charge  of  a  very  fair  little  drive  of  their  own.  Their  lot 
was  not  enviable.  Indeed,  only  the  pressure  of  work  pre- 
vented some  of  the  more  aggressive  of  Orde's  rear — among 


THE   RIVERMAN  213 

whom  could  be  numbered  the  Rough  Red — from  going 
back  and  "  cleaning  out "  this  impertinent  band  of  hang- 
ers-on. One  day  two  of  the  latter,  conducting  the  jam  of 
the  miniature  drive  astern,  came  within  reach  of  the  Rough 
Red.  The  latter  had  lingered  in  hopes  of  rescuing  his  peavy, 
which  had  gone  overboard.  To  lose  one's  peavy  is,  among 
rivermen,  the  most  mortifying  disgrace.  Consequently,  the 
Rough  Red  was  in  a  fit  mood  for  trouble.  He  attacked 
the  two  single-handed.  A  desperate  battle  ensued,  which 
lasted  upward  of  an  hour.  The  two  rivermen  punched, 
kicked,  and  battered  the  Rough  Red  in  a  manner  to  tear 
his  clothes,  deprive  him  to  some  extent  of  red  whiskers, 
bloody  his  face,  cut  his  shoulder,  and  knock  loose  two 
teeth.  The  Rough  Red,  more  than  the  equal  of  either  man 
singly,  had  reciprocated  in  kind.  Orde,  driving  in  toward 
the  rear  from  a  detour  to  avoid  a  swamp,  heard,  and  de- 
scended from  his  buckboard.  Tying  his  horses  to  trees,  he 
made  his  way  through  the  brush  to  the  scene  of  conflict. 
So  winded  and  wearied  were  the  belligerents  by  now  that 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  separating  them.  He  surveyed  their 
wrecks  with  a  sardonic  half  smile. 

"  I  call  this  a  draw,"  said  he  finally.  His  attitude  became 
threatening  as  the  two  up-river  men,  recovering  somewhat, 
showed  ugly  symptoms.  "  Git ! "  he  commanded.  "  Scat ! 
I  guess  you  don't  know  me.  I'm  Jack  Orde.  Jimmy  and  I 
together  could  do  a  dozen  of  you."  He  menaced  them  un- 
til, muttering,  they  had  turned  away. 

"  Well,  Jimmy,"  said  he  humorously,  "  you  look  as  if 
you'd  been  run  through  a  thrashing  machine." 

"  Those  fellers  make  me  sick !  "  growled  the  Rough  Red. 

Orde  looked  him  over  again. 

"  You  look  sick,"  said  he. 

When  the  buckboard  drew  into  camp,  Orde  sent  Bourke 
away  to  repair  damages  while  he  called  the  cookee  to  help 
unpack  several  heavy  boxes  of  hardware.  They  proved  to 


214  THE    RIVERMAN 

contain  about  thirty  small  hatchets,  well  sharpened,  and 
each  with  a  leather  guard.  When  the  rear  crew  had  come 
in  that  night,  Orde  distributed  the  hatchets. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  while  you're  on  the  work,  I  want 
you  all  to  keep  a  watch-out  for  these  (g)  logs,  and  when- 
ever you  strike  one  I  want  you  to  blaze  it  plainly,  so  there 
won't  be  any  mistake  about  it." 

"  What  for  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  Saginaw  men  as  he  re- 
ceived his  hatchet. 

But  the  riverman  who  squatted  next  nudged  him  with 
his  elbow. 

"  The  less  questions  you  ask  Jack,  the  more  answers 
you'll  get.  Just  do  what  you're  told  to  on  this  river  and 
you'll  see  fun  sure." 

Three  days  later  the  rear  crew  ran  into  the  head  of  the 
pond  above  Reed's  dam.  To  every  one's  surprise,  Orde 
called  a  halt  on  the  work  and  announced  a  holiday. 

Now,  holidays  are  unknown  on  drive.  Barely  is  time 
allowed  for  eating  and  sleeping.  Nevertheless,  all  that  day 
the  men  lay  about  in  complete  idleness,  smoking,  talking, 
sleeping  in  the  warm  sun.  The  river,  silenced  by  the  closed 
sluice-gates,  slept  also.  The  pond  filled  with  logs.  From 
above,  the  current,  aided  by  a  fair  wind,  was  driving  down 
still  other  logs — the  forerunners  of  the  little  drive  astern. 
At  sight  of  these,  some  of  the  men  grumbled.  "  We're 
losin'  what  we  made,"  said  they.  "  We  left  them  logs,  and 
sorted  'em  out  once  already." 

Orde  sent  a  couple  of  axe-men  to  blaze  the  newcomers. 
A  little  before  sundown  he  ordered  the  sluice-gates  of  the 
dam  opened. 

"  Night  work,"  said  the  men  to  one  another.  They  knew, 
of  course,  that  in  sluicing  logs,  the  gate  must  be  open  a 
couple  of  hours  before  the  sluicing  begins  in  order  to  fill 
tbe  river-bed  below.  Logs  run  ahead  faster  than  the  water 
spreads, 


THE   RIVERMAN  215 

Sure  enough,  after  supper  Orde  suddenly  appeared 
among  them,  the  well-known  devil  of  mischief  dancing  in 
his  eyes  and  broadening  his  good-natured  face. 

"  Get  organised,  boys,"  said  he  briskly.  "  We've  got  to 
get  this  pond  all  sluiced  before  morning,  and  there's  enough 
of  us  here  to  hustle  it  right  along." 

The  men  took  their  places.  Orde  moved  here  and  there, 
giving  his  directions. 

"  Sluice  through  everything  but  the  (g)  logs,"  he  com- 
manded. "  Work  them  off  to  the  left  and  leave  them." 

Twilight,  then  dark,  fell.  After  a  few  moments  the 
moon,  then  just  past  its  full,  rose  behind  the  new-bud- 
ding trees.  The  sluicing,  under  the  impetus  of  a  big  crew, 
went  rapidly. 

"  I  bet  there's  mighty  near  a  million  an  hour  going 
through  there,"  speculated  Orde,  watching  the  smooth, 
swift,  but  burdened  waters  of  the  chute. 

And  in  this  work  the  men  distinguished  easily  the  new 
white  blaze-marks  on  Heinzman's  logs ;  so  they  were  able 
without  hesitation  to  shunt  them  one  side  into  the  smoother 
water,  as  Orde  had  commanded. 

About  two  o'clock  the  last  log  shot  through. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Orde,  "  tear  out  the  booms." 

The  chute  to  the  dam  was  approached,  as  has  been  ear- 
lier explained,  by  two  rows  of  booms  arranged  in  a  V,  or 
funnel,  the  apex  of  which  emptied  into  the  sluice-way,  and 
the  wide,  projecting  arms  of  which  embraced  the  width 
of  the  stream.  The  logs,  floating  down  the  pond,  were  thus 
concentrated  toward  the  sluice.  Also,  the  rivermen,  walk- 
ing back  and  forth  the  length  of  the  booms,  were  able 
easily  to  keep  the  drive  moving. 

Now,  however,  Orde  unchained  these  boom  logs.  The 
men  pushed  them  ashore.  There  as  many  as  could  find  room 
on  either  side  the  boom-poles  clamped  in  their  peavies,  and, 
using  these  implements  as  handles,  carried  the  booms  some 


216  THE   RIVERMAN 

distance  back  into  the  woods.  Then  everybody  tramped 
back  and  forth,  round  and  about,  to  confuse  the  trail.  Orde 
was  like  a  mischievous  boy  at  a  school  prank.  When  the 
last  timber  had  been  concealed,  he  lifted  up  his  deep  voice 
in  a  roar  of  joy,  in  which  the  crew  joined. 

"  Now  let's  turn  in  for  a  little  sleep,"  said  he. 

This  situation,  perhaps  a  little  cloudy  in  the  reader's 
mind,  would  have  cleared  could  he  have  looked  out  over 
the  dam  pond  the  following  morning.  The  blazed  logs  be- 
longing to  Heinzman,  drifting  slowly,  had  sucked  down 
into  the  corner  toward  the  power  canal  where,  caught 
against  the  grating,  they  had  jammed.  These  logs  would 
have  to  be  floated  singly,  and  pushed  one  by  one  against 
the  current  across  the  pond  and  into  the  influence  of  the 
sluice-gate.  Some  of  them  would  be  hard  to  come  at. 

"  I  guess  that  will  keep  them  busy  for  a  day  or  two," 
commented  Orde,  as  he  followed  the  rear  down  to  where 
it  was  sacking  below  the  dam. 

This,  as  Orde  had  said,  would  be  sufficiently  annoying 
to  Heinzman,  but  would  have  little  real  effect  on  the  main 
issue,  which  was  that  the  German  was  getting  down  his 
logs  with  a  crew  of  less  than  a  dozen  men.  Nevertheless, 
Orde,  in  a  vast  spirit  of  fun,  took  delight  in  inventing  and 
executing  practical  jokes  of  the  general  sort  just  described. 
For  instance,  at  one  spot  where  he  had  boomed  the  deeper 
channel  from  the  rocks  on  either  side,  he  shunted  as  many 
of  Heinzman's  logs  as  came  by  handily  through  an  open- 
ing he  had  made  in  the  booms.  There  they  grounded  on  the 
shallows — more  work  for  the  men  following.  Many  of  the 
logs  in  charge  of  the  latter,  however,  catching  the  free 
current,  overtook  the  rear,  so  that  the  number  of  the  (g) 
logs  in  the  drive  was  not  materially  diminished. 

At  first,  as  has  been  hinted,  these  various  tactics  had  little 
effect.  One  day,  however,  the  chore  boy,  who  had  been  over 
to  Spruce  Rapids  after  mail,  reported  that  an  additional 


THE    RIVERMAN  21} 

crew  of  twenty  had  been  sent  in  to  Heinzman's  drive.  This 
was  gratifying. 

"  We're  making  him  scratch  gravel,  boys,  anyway,"  said 
Orde. 

The  men  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  In  fact, 
their  enthusiasm  was  almost  too  exuberant.  Orde  had  con- 
stantly to  negative  new  and  ingenious  schemes. 

"  No,  boys,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  keep  on  the  right  side 
of  the  law.  We  may  need  it  later." 

Meanwhile  the  entire  length  of  the  river  was  busy  and 
excited.  Heinzman's  logs  were  all  blazed  inside  a  week. 
The  men  passed  the  hatchets  along  the  line,  and  slim 
chance  did  a  marked  log  have  of  rescue  once  the  poor 
thing  fell  into  difficulties.  With  the  strange  and  interesting 
tendency  rivermen  and  woodsmen  have  of  personifying  the 
elements  of  their  daily  work,  the  men  addressed  the  help- 
less timbers  in  tones  of  contempt. 

"  Thought  you'd  ride  that  rock,  you ,° 

said  they,  "  and  got  left,  did  you  ?  Well,  lie  there  and 
be  to  you  1 " 

And  if  chance  offered,  and  time  was  not  pressing,  the 
riverman  would  give  his  helpless  victim  a  jerk  or  so  into 
a  more  difficult  position.  Times  of  rising  water — when  the 
sluice-gates  above  had  been  opened — were  the  most  prolific 
of  opportunities.  Logs  rarely  jam  on  rising  water,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  constantly  the  surface  area  of  the  river 
is  increasing,  thus  tending  to  separate  the  logs.  On  the 
other  hand,  falling  water,  tending  to  crowd  the  drive  closer 
together,  is  especially  prolific  of  trouble.  Therefore,  on 
flood  water  the  watchers  scattered  along  the  stretches  of 
the  river  had  little  to  do — save  strand  Heinzman's  logs  for 
him.  And  when  flood  water  had  passed,  some  of  those  logs 
were  certainly  high  and  dry. 

Up  to  a  certain  point  this  was  all  very  well.  Orde  took 
pains  not  to  countenance  jt  officially,  and  caus§4  W°r4  to 


218  THE   RIVERMAN 

be  passed  about,  that  while  he  did  not  expect  his  men  to 
help  drive  Heinzman's  logs,  they  must  not  go  out  of  their 
way  to  strand  them. 

"If  things  get  too  bad,  he'll  have  spies  down  here  to 
collect  evidence  on  us,"  said  Orde,  "  and  he'll  jug  some 
of  us  for  interference  with  his  property.  We  don't  own 
the  river." 

"  How  about  them  booms  ?  "  asked  the  Rough  Red. 

"  I  did  own  them,"  explained  Orde,  "  and  I  had  a  right 
to  take  them  up  when  I  had  finished  with  them." 

This  hint  was  enough.  The  men  did  not  cease  from  a 
labour  that  tickled  them  mightily,  but  they  adopted  a  code 
of  signals.  Strangers  were  not  uncommon.  Spectators  came 
out  often  from  the  little  towns  and  from  the  farms  round- 
about. When  one  of  these  appeared  the  riverman  nearest 
raised  a  long  falsetto  cry.  This  was  taken  up  by  his  next 
neighbour  and  passed  on.  In  a  few  minutes  all  that  section 
of  the  drive  knew  that  it  would  be  wise  to  "  lie  low."  And 
inside  of  two  weeks  Orde  had  the  great  satisfaction  of 
learning  that  Heinzman  was  working — and  working  hard 
— a  crew  of  fifty  men. 

"  A  pretty  fair  crew,  even  if  he  was  taking  out  his  whole 
drive,"  commented  Orde. 

The  gods  of  luck  seemed  to  be  with  the  new  enterprise. 
Although  Orde  had,  of  course,  taken  the  utmost  pains  to 
foresee  every  contingency  possible  to  guard  against,  never- 
theless, as  always  when  dealing  with  Nature's  larger  forces, 
he  anticipated  some  of  those  gigantic  obstacles  which  con- 
tinually render  uncertain  wilderness  work.  Nothing  of  the 
kind  happened.  There  formed  none  of  the  tremendous 
white- water  jams  that  pile  up  several  million  feet  of  logs, 
tax  every  resource  of  men,  horses,  arid  explosives,  and  re- 
quire a  week  or  so  to  break.  No  men  were  killed,  and  only 
two  injured.  No  unexpected  floods  swept  away  works  on 
which  the  drive  depended.  The  water  held  out  to  carry  the 


THE    RIVERMAN  219 

last  stick  of  timber  over  the  shallowest  rapids.  Weather 
conditions  were  phenomenal — and  perfect.  All  up  and  down 
the  river  the  work  went  with  that  vim  and  dash  that  is  in 
itself  an  assurance  of  success.  The  Heinzman  affair,  which 
under  auspices  of  evil  augury  might  have  become  a  serious 
menace  to  the  success  of  the  young  undertaking,  now 
served  merely  to  add  a  spice  of  humour  to  the  situation. 
Among  the  men  gained  currency  a  half-affectionate  belief 
in  "Orde's  luck." 

After  this  happy  fashion  the  drive  went,  until  at  last  it 
entered  the  broad,  deep,  and  navigable  stretches  of  the  river 
from  Redding  to  the  lake.  Here,  barring  the  accident  of 
an  extraordinary  flood,  the  troubles  were  over.  On  the 
broad,  placid  bosom  of  the  stream  the  logs  would  float. 
A  crew,  following,  would  do  the  easy  work  of  sacking 
what  logs  would  strand  or  eddy  in  the  lazy  current ;  would 
roll  into  the  faster  waters  the  component  parts  of  what 
were  by  courtesy  called  jams,  but  which  were  in  reality 
pile-ups  of  a  few  hundred  logs  on  sand  bars  mid-stream; 
and  in  the  growing  tepid  warmth  of  summer  would  tramp 
pleasantly  along  the  river  trail.  Of  course,  a  dry  year  would 
make  necessary  a  larger  crew  and  more  labour;  of  course, 
a  big  flood  might  sweep  the  logs  past  all  defences  into  the 
lake  for  an  irretrievable  loss.  But  such  floods  come  once 
in  a  century,  and  even  the  dryest  of  dry  years  could  not 
now  hang  the  drive.  As  Orde  sat  in  his  buckboard,  ready 
to  go  into  town  for  a  first  glimpse  of  Carroll  in  more  than 
two  months,  he  gazed  with  an  immense  satisfaction  over 
the  broad  river  moving  brown  and  glacier-like  as  though 
the  logs  that  covered  it  were  viscid  and  composed  all  its 
substance.  The  enterprise  was  practically  assured  of  suc- 
cess. 

For  a  while  now  Orde  was  to  have  a  breathing  spell. 
A  large  number  of  men  were  kere  laid  off.  The  remainder, 
under  the  direc**OE-  of  Jim  Denning,  would  require  little 


220  THE   RIVERMAN 

or  no  actual  supervision.  Until  the  jam  should  have  reached 
the  distributing  booms  above  Monrovia,  the  affair  was  very 
simple.  Before  he  left,  however,  he  called  Denning  to  him. 

"  Jim/'  said  he,  "  I'll  be  down  to  see  you  through  the 
sluiceways  at  Redding,  of  course.  But  now  that  you  have 
a  good,  still  stretch  of  river,  I  want  you  to  have  the  boys 
let  up  on  sacking  out  those  (8)  logs.  And  I  want  you  to 
include  in  our  drive  all  the  Heinzman  logs  from  above 
you  possibly  can.  If  you  can  fix  it,  let  their  drive  drift 
down  into  ours." 

"  Then  we'll  have  to  drive  their  logs  for  them,"  objected 
Denning. 

"  Sure,"  rejoined  Orde,  "  but  it's  easy  driving ;  and  if 
that  crew  of  his  hasn't  much  to  do,  perhaps  he'll  lay  most 
of  them  off  here  at  Redding." 

Denning  looked  at  his  principal  for  a  moment,  then  a 
slow  grin  overspread  his  face.  Without  comment  he  turned 
back  to  camp,  and  Orde  took  up  his  reins. 


XXV 

OH,  I'm  so  glad  to  get  you  back ! "  cried  Carroll  over 
and  over  again,  as  she  clung  to  him.  "  I  don't  live 
while  you're  away.  And  every  drop  of  rain  that 
patters  on  the  roof  chills  my  heart,  because  I  think  of  it 
as  chilling  you ;  and  every  creak  of  this  old  house  at  night 
brings  me  up  broad  awake,  because  I  hear  in  it  the  crash 
of  those  cruel  great  timbers.  Oh,  oh,  oh  \  I'm  so  glad  to 
get  you !  You're  the  light  of  my  life ;  you're  my  whole 
life  itself !  " — she  smiled  at  him  from  her  perch  on  his  knee 
— "  I'm  silly,  am  I  not  ? "  she  said.  "  Dear  heart,  don't 
leave  me  again." 

"  I've  got  to  support  an  extravagant  wife,  you  know," 
Orde  reminded  her  gravely. 

"  I  know,  of  course,"  she  breathed,  bending  lightly  to 
him.  "  You  have  your  work  in  the  world  to  do,  and  I 
would  not  have  it  otherwise.  It  is  great  work — wonderful 
work — I've  been  asking  questions." 

Orde  laughed. 

"  It's  work,  just  like  any  other.  And  it's  hard  work," 
said  he. 

She  shook  her  head  at  him  slowly,  a  mysterious  smile  on 
her  lips.  Without  explaining  her  thought,  she  slipped  from 
his  knee  and  glided  across  to  the  tall  golden  harp,  which 
had  been  brought  from  Monrovia.  The  light  and  diapha- 
nous silk  of  her  loose  peignoir  floated  about  her,  defining 
the  maturing  grace  of  her  figure.  Abruptly  she  struck  a 
great  crashing  chord. 

Then,  with  an  abandon  of  ecstasy  she  plunged  into  one 


222  THE  RIVERMAN 

of  those  wild  and  sea-blown  saga-like  rhapsodies  of  the 
Hungarians,  full  of  the  wind  in  rigging,  the  storm  in  the  pines, 
of  shrieking,  vast  forces  hurtling  unchained  through  a  resound- 
ing and  infinite  space,  as  though  deep  down  in  primeval  nature 
the  powers  of  the  world  had  been  loosed.  Back  and  forth, 
here  and  there,  erratic  and  swift  and  sudden  as  lightning  the 
theme  played  breathless.  It  fell. 

"What  is  that?"  gasped  Orde,  surprised  to  find  himself 
tense,  his  blood  rioting,  his  soul  stirred. 

She  ran  to  him  to  hide  her  face  in  his  neck. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  you,  you!"  she  cried. 

He  held  her  to  him  closely  until  her  excitement  had  died. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  good  to  get  quite  so  nervous,  sweet- 
heart?" he  asked  gently,  then.  "Remember " 

"Oh,  I  do,  I  do!"  she  broke  in  earnestly.  "Every  mo- 
ment of  my  waking  and  sleeping  hours  I  remember  him. 
Always  I  keep  his  little  soul  before  me  as  a  light  on  a  shrine. 
But  to-night — oh!  to-night  I  could  laugh  and  shout  aloud 
like  the  people  in  the  Bible,  with  clapping  of  hands." 
She  snuggled  herself  close  to  Orde  with  a  little  murmur 
of  happiness.  "I  think  of  all  the  beautiful  things,"  she  whis- 
pered, "and  of  the  noble  things,  and  of  the  great  things.  He 
is  going  to  be  sturdy,  like  his  father;  a  wonderful  boy,  a 
boy  all  of  fire " 

"Like  his  mother,"  said  Orde. 

She  smiled  up  at  him.  "I  want  him  just  like  you,  dear," 
she  pleaded. 


XXVI 

THREE  days  later  the  jam  of  the  drive  reached  the 
dam  at  Redding.  Orde  took  Carroll  downtown  in 
the  buckboard.  There  a  seat  by  the  dam-watcher's 
little  house  was  given  her,  back  of  the  brick  factory  build- 
ings next  the  power  canal,  whence  for  hours  she  watched 
the  slow  onward  movement  of  the  sullen  brown  timbers, 
the  smooth,  polished-steel  rush  of  the  waters  through  the 
chute,  the  graceful  certain  movements  of  the  rivermen. 
Some  of  the  latter  were  brought  up  by  Orde  and  intro- 
duced. They  were  very  awkward,  and  somewhat  embar- 
rassed, but  they  all  looked  her  straight  in  the  eye,  and 
Carroll  felt  somehow  that  back  of  their  diffidence  they  were 
quite  dispassionately  appraising  her.  After  a  few  gracious 
speeches  on  her  part  and  monosyllabic  responses  on  theirs, 
they  blundered  away.  In  spite  of  the  scant  communication, 
these  interviews  left  something  of  a  friendly  feeling  on 
both  sides. 

"  I  like  your  Jim  Denning,"  she  told  Orde;  "he's  a  nice, 
clean-cut  fellow.  And  Mr.  Bourke,"  she  laughed.  "  Isn't 
he  funny  with  his  fierce  red  beard  and  his  little  eyes?  But 
he  simply  adores  you." 

Orde  laughed  at  the  idea  of  the  Rough  Red's  adoring 
anybody. 

"  It's  so,"  she  insisted,  "  and  I  like  him  for  it — only  I 
wish  he  were  a  little  cleaner." 

She  thought  the  feats  of  "  log-riding "  little  less  than 
wonderful,  and  you  may  be  sure  the  knowledge  of  her 
presence  did  not  discourage  spectacular  display.  Finally*. 

223 


224  THE   RIVERMAN 

Johnny  Challan,  uttering  a  loud  whoop,  leaped  aboard  4 
log  and  went  through  the  chute  standing  bolt  upright.  By 
a  marvel  of  agility,  he  kept  his  balance  through  the  white- 
water  below,  and  emerged  finally  into  the  lower  waters 
still  proudly  upright,  and  dry  above  the  knees. 

Carroll  had  arisen,  the  better  to  see. 

"  Why,"  she  cried  aloud,  "  it's  marvellous !  Circus  riding 
is  nothing  to  it !  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  replied  a  gigantic  riverman  who  was 
working  near  at  hand,  "  that  ain't  nothin'.  Ordinary,  how- 
ever, we  travel  that  way  on  the  river.  At  night  we  have  the 
cookee  pass  us  out  each  a  goose-ha'r  piller,  and  lay  down 
for  the  night." 

Carroll  looked  at  him  in  reproof.  He  grinned  slowly. 

"  Don't  git  worried  about  me,  ma'am,"  said  he,  "  I'm 
hopeless.  For  twenty  year  now  I  been  wearin'  crape  on  my 
hat  in  memory  of  my  departed  virtues." 

After  the  rear  had  dropped  down  river  from  Redding, 
Carroll  and  Orde  returned  to  their  deserted  little  box  of  a 
house  at  Monrovia. 

Orde  breathed  deep  of  a  new  satisfaction  in  walking 
again  the  streets  of  this  little  sandy,  sawdust-paved,  shanty- 
fied  town,  with  its  yellow  hills  and  its  wide  blue  river  and 
its  glimpse  of  the  lake  far  in  the  offing.  It  had  never  meant 
anything  to  him  before.  Now  he  enjoyed  every  brick  and 
board  of  it;  he  trod  the  broken,  aromatic  shingles  of  the 
roadway  with  pleasure;  he  tramped  up  the  broad  stairs 
and  down  the  dark  hall  of  the  block  with  anticipation;  he 
breathed  the  compounded  office  odour  of  ledgers,  cocoa 
matting,  and  old  cigar  smoke  in  a  long,  reminiscent  whiff; 
he  took  his  seat  at  his  roll-top  desk,  enchanted  to  be  again 
in  these  homely  though  familiar  surroundings. 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  what's  struck  me,"  he  mused. 
"  Never  experienced  any  remarkable  joy  before  in  getting 
back  to  this  sort  of  truck." 


THE    RIVERMAN  225 

Then,  with  a  warm  glow  at  the  heart,  the  realisation 
was  brought  to  him.  This  was  home,  and  over  yonder, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  heaven-pointing  spire,  a  slip  of 
a  girl  was  waiting  for  him. 

He  tried  to  tell  her  this  when  next  he  saw  her. 

"  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  make  you  a  little  shrine,  and 
burn  candles  to  you,  the  way  the  Catholics  do " 

"  To  the  Mater  Dolorosa  ?  "  she  mocked. 

He  looked  at  her  dark  eyes  so  full  of  the  sweetness  or 
content,  at  her  sensitive  lips  with  the  quaintly  upturned 
corners,  and  he  thought  of  what  her  home  life  had  been 
and  of  the  real  sorrow  that  even  yet  must  smoulder  some- 
where down  in  the  deeps  of  her  being. 

"  No,"  said  he  slowly,  "  not  that.  I  think  my  shrine  will 
be  dedicated  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Joyous  Soul." 

The  rest  of  the  week  Orde  was  absent  up  the  river,  super- 
intending in  a  general  way  the  latter  progress  of  the  drive, 
looking  into  the  needs  of  the  crews,  arranging  for  supplies. 
The  mills  were  all  working  now,  busily  cutting  into  the 
residue  of  last  season's  logs.  Soon  they  would  need  more. 

At  the  booms  everything  was  in  readiness  to  receive  the 
jam.  The  long  swing  arm  slanting  across  the  river  channel 
was  attached  to  its  winch  which  would  operate  it.  When 
shut  it  would  close  the  main  channel  and  shunt  into  the 
booms  the  logs  floating  in  the  river.  There,  penned  at  last 
by  the  piles  driven  in  a  row  and  held  together  at  the  top 
by  bolted  timbers,  they  would  lie  quiet.  Men  armed  with 
pike-poles  would  then  take  up  the  work  of  distribution  ac- 
cording to  the  brands  stamped  on  the  ends.  Each  brand 
had  its  own  separate  "  sorting  pens,"  the  lower  end  leading 
again  into  the  open  river.  From  these  each  owner's  prop- 
erty was  rafted  and  towed  to  his  private  booms  at  his 
mill  below. 

Orde  spent  the  day  before  the  jam  appeared  in  construct- 
ing what  he  called  a  "  boomerang." 


226  THE   RIVERMAN 

"Invention  of  my  own,"  he  explained  to  Newmark. 
"  Secret  invention  just  yet.  I'm  going  to  hold  up  the  drive 
in  the  main  river  until  we  have  things  bunched,  then  I'm 
going  to  throw  a  big  crew  down  here  by  the  swing.  Heinz- 
man  anticipates,  of  course,  that  I'll  run  the  entire  drive 
into  the  booms  and  do  all  my  sorting  there.  Naturally,  if 
I  turn  his  logs  loose  into  the  river  as  fast  as  I  run  across 
them,  he  will  be  able  to  pick  them  up  one  at  a  time,  for 
he'll  only  get  them  occasionally.  If  I  keep  them  until  every- 
thing else  is  sorted,  only  Heinzman's  logs  will  remain ;  and 
as  we  have  no  right  to  hold  logs,  we'll  have  to  turn  them 
loose  through  the  lower  sorting  booms,  where  he  can  be 
ready  to  raft  them.  In  that  way  he  gets  them  all  right 
without  paying  us  a  cent.  See?" 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Newmark. 

"  Well,"  said  Orde,  with  a  laugh,  "  here  is  where  I  fool 
him.  I'm  going  to  rush  the  drive  into  the  booms  all  at 
once,  but  I'm  going  to  sort  out  Heinzman's  logs  at  these 
openings  near  the  entrance  and  turn  them  into  the  main 
channel." 

"What  good  will  that  do?"  asked  Newmark  sceptically. 
"He  gets  them  sorted  just  the  same,  doesn't  he?" 

"  The  current's  fairly  strong,"  Orde  pointed  out,  "  and 
the  river's  almighty  wide.  When  you  spring  seven  or  eight 
million  feet  on  a  man,  all  at  once  and  unexpected,  and 
he  with  no  crew  to  handle  them,  he's  going  to  keep  al- 
mighty busy.  And  if  he  don't  stop  them  this  side  his  mill, 
he'll  have  to  raft  and  tow  them  back ;  and  if  he  don't  stop 
'em  this  side  the  lake,  he  may  as  well  kiss  them  all  good- 
bye— except  those  that  drift  into  the  bayous  and  inlets  and 
marshes,  and  other  ungodly  places." 

"  I  see,"  said  Newmark  drily. 

"  But  don't  say  a  word  anywhere,"  warned  Orde.  "  Se- 
crecy is  the  watchword  of  success  with  this  merry  little 
joke." 


THE   RIVERMAN  227 

The  boomerang  worked  like  a  charm.  The  men  had  been 
grumbling  at  an  apparently  peaceful  yielding  of  the  point 
at  issue,  and  would  have  sacked  out  many  of  the  blazed  logs 
if  Orde  had  not  held  them  rigidly  to  it.  Now  their  spirits 
flamed  into  joy  again.  The  sorting  went  like  clockwork. 
Orde,  in  personal  charge,  watched  that  through  the  differ- 
ent openings  in  his  "  boomerang  "  the  (H)  logs  were  shunted 
into  the  river.  Shortly  the  channel  was  full  of  logs  float- 
ing merrily  away  down  the  little  blue  wavelets.  After  a 
while  Orde  handed  over  his  job  to  Tom  North. 

"  Can't  stand  it  any  longer,  boys,"  said  he.  "  I've  got 
to  go  down  and  see  how  the  Dutchman  is  making  it." 

"  Come  back  and  tell  us !  "  yelled  one  of  the  crew. 

"  You  bet  I  will !  "  Orde  shouted  back. 

He  drove  the  team  and  buckboard  down  the  marsh  road 
to  Heinzman's  mill.  There  he  found  evidences  of  the  wild- 
est excitement.  The  mill  had  been  closed  down,  and  all 
the  men  turned  in  to  rescue  logs.  Boats  plied  in  all  direc- 
tions. A  tug  darted  back  and  forth.  Constantly  the  num- 
ber of  floating  logs  augmented,  however.  Many  had  al- 
ready gone  by. 

"  If  you  think  you're  busy  now,"  said  Orde  to  himself 
with  a  chuckle,  "  just  wait  until  you  begin  to  get  logs." 

He  watched  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"What's  he  doing  with  that  tug?"  thought  he.  "O-ho! 
He's  stringing  booms  across  the  river  to  hold  the  whole 
outfit." 

He  laughed  aloud,  turned  his  team  about,  and  drove  fran- 
tically back  to  the  booms.  Every  few  moments  he  chuckled. 
His  eyes  danced.  Hardly  could  he  wait  to  get  there.  Once 
at  the  camp,  he  leaped  from  the  buckboard,  with  a  shout 
to  the  stableman,  and  ran  rapidly  out  over  the  booms  to 
where  the  sorting  of  (H)  logs  was  going  merrily  forward. 

"  He's  shut  down  his  mill,"  shouted  Orde,  "  and  he's  got 
all  that  gang  of  highbankers  out,  and  every  old  rum-bios- 


228  THE    RIVERMAN 

som  in  Monrovia,  and  I  bet  if  you  say  '  logs '  to  him,  he'd 
chase  his  tail  in  circles." 

"  Want  this  job  ?  "  North  asked  him. 

"  No,"  saia  Orde,  suddenly  fallen  solemn,  "  haven't  time. 
I'm  going  to  take  Marsh  and  the  Sprite  and  go  to  town. 
Old  Heinzman,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought,  "  is  string- 
ing  booms  across  the  river — obstructing  navigation." 

He  ran  down  the  length  of  the  whole  boom  to  where 
lay  the  two  tugs. 

"  Marsh,"  he  called  when  still  some  distance  away,  "  got 
up  steam?" 

There  appeared  a  short,  square,  blue-clad  man,  with  hard 
brown  cheeks,  a  heavy  bleached  flaxen  moustache,  and  eyes 
steady,  unwavering,  and  as  blue  as  the  sky. 

"  Up  in  two  minutes,"  he  answered,  and  descended  from 
the  pilot  house  to  shout  down  a  low  door  leading  from  the 
deck  into  the  engine  room. 

"  Harvey,"  he  commanded,  "  fire  her  up !  " 

A  tall,  good-natured  negro  reached  the  upper  half  of  his 
body  from  the  low  door  to  seize  an  armful  of  the  slabs 
piled  along  the  narrow  deck.  Ten  minutes  later  the  Sprite, 
a  cloud  of  white  smoke  pouring  from  her  funnel,  was 
careening  down  the  stretch  of  the  river. 

Captain  Marsh  guided  his  energetic  charge  among  the 
logs  floating  in  the  stream  with  the  marvellous  second 
instinct  of  the  expert  tugboat  man.  A  whirl  of  the  wheel 
to  the  right,  a  turn  to  the  left — the  craft  heeled  strongly 
under  the  forcing  of  her  powerful  rudder  to  avoid  by  an 
arm's-length  some  timbers  fairly  flung  aside  by  the  wash. 
The  displacement  of  the  rapid  running  seemed  almost  to 
press  the  water  above  the  level  of  the  deck  on  either  side 
and  about  ten  feet  from  the  gunwale.  As  the  low  marshes 
and  cat-tails  flew  past,  Orde  noted  with  satisfaction  that 
many  of  the  logs,  urged  one  side  by  the  breeze,  had  found 
lodgment  among  the  reeds  and  in  the  bayous  and  inlets, 


THE   RIVERMAN  229 

One  at  a  time,  and  painfully,  these  would  have  to  be  sal- 
vaged. 

In  a  short  time  the  mills'  tall  smokestacks  loomed  in 
sight.  The  logs  thickened  until  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
Captain  Marsh  could  thread  his  way  among  them  at  all. 
Shortly  Orde,  standing  by  the  wheel  in  the  pilot-house, 
could  see  down  the  stretches  of  the  river  a  crowd  of  men 
working  antlike. 

"  They've  got  'em  stopped,"  commented  Orde.  "  Look  at 
that  gang  working  from  boats !  They  haven't  a  dozen  '  cork 
boots  '  among  'em." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  asked  Captain  Marsh. 

"  This  is  a  navigable  river,  isn't  it  ?  "  replied  Orde.  "  Run 
through !  " 

Marsh  rang  for  half-speeH  and  began  to  nose  his  way 
gently  through  the  loosely  floating  logs.  Soon  the  tug  had 
reached  the  scene  of  activity,  and  headed  straight  for  the 
slender  line  of  booms  hitched  end  to  end  and  stretching 
quite  across  the  river. 

"  I'm  afraid  we'll  just  ride  over  them  if  we  hit  them 
too  slow,"  suggested  Marsh. 

Orde  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  We'll  be  late  for  the  mail  unless  we  hurry,"  said  he. 

Marsh  whirled  the  spokes  of  his  wheel  over  and  rang 
the  engine-room  bell.  The  water  churned  white  behind,  the 
tug  careened. 

"  Vat  you  do !  Stop ! "  cried  Heinzman  from  one  of  the 
boats. 

Orde  stuck  his  head  from  the  pilot-house  door. 

"  You're  obstructing  navigation !  "  he  yelled.  "  I've  got 
to  go  to  town  to  buy  a  postage-stamp." 

The  prow  of  the  tug,  accurately  aimed  by  Marsh,  hit 
square  in  the  junction  of  two  of  the  booms.  Immediately 
the  water  was  agitated  on  both  sides  and  for  a  hundred 
fee*  or  so  by  the  pressure  of  the  long  poles  sidewise.  There 


230  THE   RIVERMAN 

ensued  a  moment  of  strain ;  then  the  links  snapped,  and  the 
Sprite  plunged  joyously  through  the  opening.  The  booms, 
swept  aside  by  the  current,  floated  to  either  shore.  The 
river  was  open. 

Orde,  his  head  still  out  the  door,  looked  back. 

"  Slow  down,  Marsh,"  said  he.  "  Let's  see  the  show." 

Already  the  logs  caught  by  the  booms  had  taken  their 
motion  and  had  swept  past  the  opening.  Although  the  lone- 
some tug  Heinzman  had  on  the  work  immediately  picked 
up  one  end  of  the  broken  boom,  and  with  it  started  out 
into  the  river,  she  found  difficulty  in  making  headway 
against  the  sweep  of  the  logs.  After  a  long  struggle  she 
reached  the  middle  of  the  river,  where  she  was  able  to  hold 
her  own. 

"  Wonder  what  next  ?  "  speculated  Orde.  "  How  are  they 
going  to  get  the  other  end  of  the  booms  out  from  the 
other  bank  ?  " 

Captain  Marsh  had  reversed  the  Sprite.  The  tug  lay 
nearly  motionless  amidstream,  her  propeller  slowly  revolv- 
ing. 

Up  river  all  the  small  boats  gathered  in  a  line,  connected 
one  to  the  other  by  a  rope.  The  tug  passed  over  to  them 
the  cable  attached  to  the  boom.  Evidently  the  combined 
efforts  of  the  rowboats  were  counted  on  to  hold  the  half- 
boom  across  the  current  while  the  tug  brought  out  the 
other  half.  When  the  tug  dropped  the  cable,  Orde  laughed. 

"  Nobody  but  a  Dutchman  would  have  thought  of  that !  " 
he  cried.  "  Now  for  the  fun ! " 

Immediately  the  weight  fell  on  the  small  boats,  they  were 
dragged  irresistibly  backward.  Even  from  a  distance  the 
three  men  on  the  Sprite  could  make  out  the  white-water 
as  the  oars  splashed  and  churned  and  frantically  caught 
crabs  in  a  vain  effort  to  hold  their  own.  Marsh  lowered 
his  telescope,  the  tears  streaming  down  his  face. 

"  It's  better  than  a  goat  fight,"  said  he. 


THE   RIVERMAN  231 

Futilely  protesting,  the  rowboats  were  dragged  back- 
ward, turned  as  a  whip  is  snapped,  and  strung  out  along 
the  bank  below. 

"  They'll  have  to  have  two  tugs  before  they  can  close 
the  break  that  way,"  commented  Orde. 

"  Sure  thing,"  replied  Captain  Marsh. 

But  at  that  moment  a  black  smoke  rolled  up  over  the 
marshes,  and  shortly  around  the  bend  from  above  came  the 
Lucy  Belle. 

The  Lucy  Belle  was  the  main  excuse  for  calling  the  riv^r 
navigable.  She  made  trips  as  often  as  she  could  between 
Redding  and  Monrovia.  In  luck,  she  could  cover  the  forty 
miles  in  a  day.  It  was  no  unusual  thing,  however,  for  the 
Lucy  Belle  to  hang  up  indefinitely  on  some  one  of  the 
numerous  shifting  sand  bars.  For  that  reason  she  carried 
more  imperishable  freight  than  passengers.  In  appearance 
she  was  two-storied,  with  twin  smokestacks,  an  iron  In- 
dian on  her  top,  and  a  "  splutter-behind  "  paddle-wheel. 

"  There  comes  his  help,"  said  Orde.  "  Old  Simpson 
would  stop  to  pick  up  a  bogus  three-cent  piece." 

Sure  enough,  on  hail  from  one  of  the  rowboats,  the  Lucy 
Belle  slowed  down  and  stopped.  After  a  short  conference, 
she  steamed  clumsily  over  to  get  hold  of  one  end  of  the 
booms.  The  tug  took  the  other.  In  time,  and  by  dint  of 
much  splashing,  some  collisions,  and  several  attempts,  the 
ends  of  the  booms  were  united. 

By  this  time,  however,  nearly  all  the  logs  had  escaped. 
The  tug,  towing  a  string  of  rowboats,  set  out  in  pursuit. 

The  Sprite  continued  on  her  way  until  beyond  sight. 
Then  she  slowed  down  again.  The  Lucy  Belle  churned 
around  the  bend,  and  turned  in  toward  the  tug. 

"  She's  going  to  speak  us,"  marvelled  Orde.  "  I  wonder 
what  the  dickens  she  wants." 

"  Tug  ahoy !  "  bellowed  a  red-faced  individual  from  the 
upper  deck.  He  was  dressed  in  blue  and  brass  buttons, 


232  THE   RIVERMAN 

carried  a  telescope  in  one  hand,  and  was  liberally  festooned 
with  gold  braid  and  embroidered  anchors. 

"  Answer  him,"  Orde  commanded  Marsh. 

"Hullo  there,  commodore!  what  is  it?"  replied  the  tug 
captain. 

The  red-faced  figure  glared  down  for  a  moment. 

"  They  want  a  tug  up  there  at  Heinzman's.  Can  you 

£0?" 

"  Sure !  "  cried  Marsh,  choking. 

The  Lucy  Belle  sheered  off  magnificently. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  Marsh  asked  Orde. 

"  The  commodore  always  acts  as  if  that  old  raft  was 
a  sixty-gun  frigate,"  was  Orde's  non-committal  answer. 
"  Head  up  stream  again." 

Heinzman  saw  the  Sprite  coming,  and  rowed  out  fran- 
tically, splashing  at  every  stroke  and  yelling  with  every 
breath. 

"  Don't  you  go  through  there !  Vait  a  minute !  Stop,  I 
tell  you ! " 

"  Hold  up !  "  said  Orde  to  Marsh. 

Heinzman  rowed  alongside,  dropped  his  oars  and  mopped 
his  brow. 

"  Vat  you  do  ?  "  he  demanded  heatedly. 

"  I  forgot  the  money  to  buy  my  stamp  with,"  said  Orde 
sweetly.  "  I'm  going  back  to  get  it.'* 

"  Not  through  my  pooms !  "  cried  Heinzman. 

"  Mr.  Heinzman,"  said  Orde  severely,  "  you  are  obstruct- 
ing a  navigable  stream.  I  am  doing  business,  and  I  cannot 
be  interfered  with." 

"  But  my  logs !  "  cried  the  unhappy  mill  man. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  logs.  You  are  driving 
your  own  logs,"  Orde  reminded  him. 

Heinzman  vituperated  and  pounded  the  gunwale. 

"  Go  ahead,  Marsh !  "  said  Orde. 

The  tug  gathered  way.  Soon  Heinzman  was  forced  to 


THE   RIVERMAN  233 

let  go.  For  a  second  time  the  chains  were  snapped.  Orde 
aiid  Marsh  looked  back  over  the  churning  wake  left  by 
the  Sprite.  The  severed  ends  of  the  booms  were  swinging 
back  toward  either  shore.  Between  them  floated  a  rowboat. 
In  the  rowboat  gesticulated  a  pudgy  man.  The  river  was 
well  sprinkled  with  logs.  Evidently  the  sorting  was  going 
on  well. 

"  May  as  well  go  back  to  the  works,"  said  Orde.  "  He 
won't  string  them  together  again  to-day — not  if  he  waits 
for  that  tug  he  sent  Simpson  for." 

Accordingly,  they  returned  to  the  booms,  where  work 
was  suspended  while  Orde  detailed  to  an  appreciative  au- 
dience the  happenings  below.  This  tickled  the  men  im- 
mensely. 

"  Why,  we  hain't  sorted  out  more'n  a  million  feet  of  his 
logs,"  cried  Rollway  Charlie.  "  He  hain't  seen  no  logs  yet  I  " 

They  turned  with  new  enthusiasm  to  the  work  of  shunt- 
ing (fi)  logs  into  the  channel. 

In  ten  minutes,  however,  the  stableman  picked  his  way 
out  over  the  booms  with  a  message  for  Orde. 

"  Mr.  Heinzman's  ashore,  and  wants  to  see  you,"  said  he. 
-  Orde  and  Jim  Denning  exchanged  glances. 

"  'Coon's  come  down,"  said  the  latter. 

Orde  found  the  mill  man  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down 
before  a  steaming  pair  of  horses.  Newmark,  perched  on  a 
stump,  was  surveying  him  sardonically  and  chewing  the 
Cnd  of  an  unlighted  cigar. 

"  Here  you  poth  are ! "  burst  out  Heinzman,  when  Orde 
stepped  ashore.  "  Now,  this  must  stop.  I  must  not  lose  my 
logs !  Vat  is  your  probosition  ?  " 

Newmark  broke  in  quickly  before  Orde  could  speak. 

"  I've  told  Mr.  Heinzman,"  said  he,  "  that  we  would 
sort  and  deliver  the  rest  of  his  logs  for  two  dollars  a 
thousand." 

0  That  will  be  about  it,"  agreed  Orde, 


234  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  But,"  exploded  Heinzman,  "  that  is  as  much  as  you 
agreet  to  drive  and  deliff er  my  whole  cut !  " 

"  Precisely,"  said  Newmark. 

"  Put  I  haf  all  the  eggspence  of  driving  the  logs  my- 
self. Why  shoult  I  pay  you  for  doing  what  I  haf  alretty 
paid  to  haf  done?" 

Orde  chuckled. 

"  Heinzman,"  said  he,  "  I  told  you  I'd  make  you  scratch 
gravel.  Now  it's  time  to  talk  business.  You  thought  you 
were  boring  with  a  mighty  auger,  but  it's  time  to  revise. 
We  aren't  forced  to  bother  with  your  logs,  and  you're  lucky 
to  get  out  so  easy.  If  I  turn  your  whole  drive  into  the 
river,  you'll  lose  more  than  half  of  it  outright,  and  it'll  cost 
you  a  heap  to  salvage  the  rest.  And  what's  more,  I'll  turn 
'em  in  before  you  can  get  hold  of  a  pile-driver.  I'll  sort 
night  and  day,"  he  bluffed,  "  and  by  to-morrow  morning 
you  won't  have  a  stick  of  timber  above  my  booms."  He 
laughed  again.  "  You  want  to  get  down  to  business  al- 
mighty sudden." 

When  finally  Heinzman  had  driven  sadly  away,  and  the 
whole  drive,  (H)  logs  included,  was  pouring  into  the  main 
boom,  Orde  stretched  his  arms  over  his  head  in  a  luxury 
of  satisfaction. 

"  That  just  about  settles  that  campaign,"  he  said  to  New- 
mark. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  doesn't,"  replied  the  latter  decidedly. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Orde,  surprised.  "  You  don't  imagine 
he'll  do  anything  more  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  will,"  said  Newmark. 


XXVII 

EARLY  in  the  fall  the  baby  was  born.  It  proved  to 
be  a  boy.  Orde,  nervous  as  a  cat  after  the  ordeal  of 
doing  nothing,  tiptoed  into  the  darkened  room.  He 
found  his  wife  weak  and  pale,  her  dark  hair  framing  her  face, 
a  new  look  of  rapt  inner  contemplation  rendering  even 
more  mysterious  her  always  fathomless  eyes.  To  Orde  she 
seemed  fragile,  aloof,  enshrined  among  her  laces  and  dainty 
ribbons.  Hardly  dared  he  touch  her  when  she  held  her  hand 
out  to  him  weakly,  but  fell  on  his  knees  beside  the  bed  and 
buried  his  face  in  the  clothes.  She  placed  a  gentle  hand  caress- 
ingly on  his  head. 

So  they  remained  for  some  time.  Finally  he  raised  his 
eyes.  She  held  her  lips  to  him.  He  kissed  them. 

"It  seems  sort  of  make-believe  even  yet,  sweetheart,"  she 
smiled  at  him  whimsically,  "  that  we  have  a  real,  live  baby  all 
of  our  own." 

"Like  other  people,"  said  Orde. 

"Not  like  other  people  at  all!"  she  disclaimed,  with  a  show 
of  indignation. 

Grandma  Orde  brought  the  newcomer  in  for  Orde's  in- 
spection. He  looked  gravely  down  on  the  puckered,  discol- 
oured bit  of  humanity  with  some  feeling  of  disappointment, 
and  perhaps  a  faint  uneasiness.  After  a  moment  he  voiced 
the  latter. 

"Is — do  you  think — that  is — "  he  hesitated,  "does  the 
doctor  say  he's  going  to  be  all  right?" 

"All  right!"  cried  Grandma  Orde  indignantly.  "I'd  like 
to  know  if  he  isn't  all  right  now!  What  in  the  world  do  you 
expect  of  a  new-born  baby?" 

235 


336  THE   RIVERMAN 

But  Carroll  was  laughing  softly  to  herself  on  the  bed. 
She  held  out  her  arms  for  the  babys  and  cuddled  it  close 
to  her  breast. 

"  He's  a  little  darling,"  she  crooned,  "  and  he's  going  to 
grow  up  big  and  strong,  just  like  his  daddy."  She  put 
her  cheek  against  the  sleeping  babe's  and  looked  up  side- 
wise  at  the  two  standing  above  her.  "  But  I  know  how 
you  feel,"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "  When  they  first 
showed  him  to  me,  I  thought  he  looked  like  a  peanut  a 
thousand  years  old." 

Grandma  Orde  fairly  snorted  with  indignation. 

"  Come  to  your  old  grandmother,  who  appreciates  you !  " 
she  cried,  possessing  herself  of  the  infant.  "  He's  a  beauti- 
ful baby;  one  of  the  best-looking  new-born  babies  I  ever 
saw!" 

Orde  escaped  to  the  open  air.  He  had  to  go  to  the  office 
to  attend  to  some  details  of  the  business.  With  every  step 
his  elation  increased.  At  the  office  he  threw  open  his  desk 
with  a  slam.  Newmark  jumped  nervously  and  frowned. 
Orde's  big,  open,  and  brusque  manners  bothered  him  as 
they  would  have  bothered  a  cat. 

"  Got  a  son  and  heir  over  at  my  place,"  called  Orde  in  his 
big  voice.  "  This  old  firm's  got  to  rustle  now,  I  tell  you." 

"  Congratulate  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Newmark  rather 
shortly.  "  Mrs.  Orde  is  doing  well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Fine,  fine !  "  cried  Orde. 

Newmark  dropped  the  subject  and  plunged  into  a  busi- 
ness matter.  Orde's  attention,  however,  was  flighty.  After 
a  little  while  he  closed  his  desk  with  another  bang. 

"  No  use ! "  said  he.  "  Got  to  make  it  a  vacation.  I'm 
going  to  run  over  to  see  how  the  family  is." 

Strangely  enough,  the  young  couple  had  not  discussed 
before  the  question  of  a  name.  One  evening  at  twilight, 
when  Orde  was  perched  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  Carroll 
brought  up  the  subject. 


THE    RIVERMAN  237 

"He  ought  to  be  named  for  you,"  she  began  timidly. 
"  I  know  that,  Jack,  and  I'd  love  to  have  another  Jack 
Orde  in  the  family;  but,  dear,  I've  been  thinking  about 
father.  He's  a  poor,  forlorn  old  man,  who  doesn't  get  much 
out  of  life.  And  it  would  please  him  so— oh,  more  than 
you  can  imagine  such  a  thing  could  please  anybody !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  doubtfully.  Orde  said  nothing,  but 
walked  around  the  bed  to  where  the  baby  lay  in  his  little 
cradle.  He  leaned  over  and  took  the  infant  up  in  his  gin- 
gerly awkward  fashion. 

"  How  are  you  to-day,  Bobby  Orde  ? "  he  inquired  of 
the  blinking  mite. 


XXVIII 

THE  first  season  of  the  Boom  Company  was  most 
successful.  Its  prospects  for  the  future  were  bright. 
The  drive  had  been  delivered  to  its  various  owners 
at  a  price  below  what  it  had  cost  them  severally,  and  with- 
out the  necessary  attendant  bother.  Therefore,  the  loggers 
were  only  too  willing  to  renew  their  contracts  for  another 
year.  This  did  not  satisfy  Newmark,  however. 

"  What  we  want,"  he  told  Orde,  "  is  a  charter  giving  us 
exclusive  rights  on  the  river,  and  authorising  us  to  ask 
toll.  I'm  going  to  try  and  get  one  out  of  the  legislature." 

He  departed  for  Lansing  as  soon  as  the  Assembly 
opened,  and  almost  immediately  became  lost  in  one  of  those 
fierce  struggles  of  politics  not  less  bitter  because  concealed. 
Heinzman  was  already  on  the  ground. 

Newmark  had  the  shadow  of  right  on  his  side,  for  he 
applied  for  the  charter  on  the  basis  of  the  river  improve- 
ments already  put  in  by  his  firm.  Heinzman,  however,  pos- 
sessed much  political  influence,  a  deep  knowledge  of  the 
subterranean  workings  of  plot  and  counterplot,  and  a 
"  barrel."  Although  armed  with  an  apparently  incontest- 
able legal  right,  Newmark  soon  found  himself  fighting  on 
the  defensive.  Heinzman  wanted  the  improvements  already 
existing  condemned  and  sold  as  a  public  utility  to  the  high- 
est bidder.  He  offered  further  guarantees  as  to  future  im- 
provements. In  addition  were  other  and  more  potent  argu- 
ments proffered  behind  closed  doors.  Many  cases  resolved 
themselves  into  a  bald  question  of  cash.  Others  demanded 
•diplomacy.  Jobs,  fat  contracts,  business  favours,  influence 

238 


THE    RIVERMAN  239 

were  all  flung  out  freely — bribes  as  absolute  as  though 
stamped  with  the  dollar  mark.  Newspapers  all  over  the 
State  were  pressed  into  service.  These,  bought  up  by  Heinz- 
man  and  his  prospective  partners  in  a  lucrative  business, 
spoke  virtuously  of  private  piracy  of  what  are  now  called 
public  utilities,  the  exploiting  of  the  people's  natural 
wealths,  and  all  the  rest  of  a  specious  reasoning  the  more  con- 
vincing in  that  it  was  in  many  other  cases  only  too  true. 
The  independent  journals,  uninformed  of  the  rights  of  thf 
case,  either  remained  silent  on  the  matter,  or  groped  in  i 
puzzled  and  undecided  manner  on  both  sides. 

Against  this  secret  but  effective  organisation  Newmark 
most  unexpectedly  found  himself  pitted.  He  had  antici- 
pated being  absent  but  a  week;  he  became  involved  in  an 
affair  of  months. 

With  decision  he  applied  himself  to  the  problem.  He 
took  rooms  at  the  hotel,  sent  for  Orde,  and  began  at  once  to 
set  in  motion  the  machinery  of  opposition.  The  refreshed 
resources  of  the  company  were  strained  to  the  breaking- 
point  in  order  to  raise  money  for  this  new  campaign  open- 
ing before  it.  Orde,  returning  to  Lansing  after  a  trip  de- 
voted to  the  carrying  out  of  Newmark's  directions  as  to 
finances,  was  dismayed  at  the  tangle  of  strategy  and  cross- 
strategy,  innuendo,  vague  and  formless  cobweb  forces  by 
which  he  was  surrounded.  He  could  make  nothing  of  them. 
They  brushed  his  face,  he  felt  their  influence,  yet  he  could 
place  his  finger  on  no  tangible  and  comprehensible  solidity. 
Among  these  delicate  and  complicated  cross-currents  New- 
mark  moved  silent,  cold,  secret.  He  seemed  to  understand 
them,  to  play  with  them,  to  manipulate  them  as  elements 
of  the  game.  Above  them  was  the  hollow  shock  of  the 
ostensible  battle — the  speeches,  the  loud  talk  in  lobbies,  the 
newspaper  virtue,  indignation,  accusations;  but  the  real 
struggle  was  here  in  the  furtive  ways,  in  whispered  words 
delivered  hastily  aside,  in  hotel  halls  on  the  way  to  and 


240  THE   RIVERMAN 

from  the  stairs,  behind  closed  doors  of  rooms  without  open 
transoms. 

Orde  in  comic  despair  acknowledged  that  it  was  all  "  too 
deep  for  him."  Nevertheless,  it  was  soon  borne  in  on  him 
that  the  new  company  was  struggling  for  its  very  right 
to  existence.  It  had  been  doing  that  from  the  first;  but 
now,  to  Orde  the  fight,  the  existence,  had  a  new  impor- 
tance. The  company  up  to  this  point  had  been  a  scheme 
merely,  an  experiment  that  might  win  or  lose.  Now,  with 
the  history  of  a  drive  behind  it,  it  had  become  a  living 
entity.  Orde  would  have  fought  against  its  dissolution  as 
he  would  have  fought  against  a  murder.  Yet  he  had  prac- 
tically to  stand  one  side,  watching  Newmark's  slender, 
gray-clad,  tense  figure  gliding  here  and  there,  more  silent, 
more  reserved,  more  watchful  every  day. 
.  The  fight  endured  through  most  of  the  first  half  of  the 
session.  When  finally  it  became  evident  to  Heinzman  that 
Newmark  would  win,  he  made  the  issue  of  toll  rates  the 
ditch  of  his  last  resistance,  trying  to  force  legal  charges 
so  low  as  to  eat  up  the  profits.  At  the  last,  however,  the 
bill  passed  the  board.  The  company  had  its  charter. 

,At  what  price  only  Newmark  could  have  told.  He  had 
'fought  with  the  tense  earnestness  of  the  nervous  tempera- 
ment that  fights  to  win  without  count  of  the  cost.  The  firm 
was  established,  but  it  was  as  heavily  in  debt  as  its  credit 
would  stand.  Newmark  himself,  though  as  calm  and  re- 
served and  precise  as  ever,  seemed  to  have  turned  gray, 
and  one  of  his  eyelids  had  acquired  a  slight  nervous  twitch 
which  persisted  for  some  months.  He  took  his  seat  at  the 
desk,  however,  as  calmly  as  ever.  In  three  days  the  scan- 
'dalised  howls  of  bribery  and  corruption  had  given  place 
in  the  newspapers  to  some  other  sensation. 

"  Joe,"  said  Orde  to  his  partner,  "  how  about  all  this 
talk?  Is  there  really  anything  in  it?  You  haven't  gone  in 
for  that  business,  have  you?" 


THE   RIVERMAN  241 

Newmark  stretched  his  arms  wearily. 

"  Press  bought  up,"  he  replied.  "  I  know  for  a  fact  that 
old  Stanford  got  five  hundred  dollars  from  some  of  the 
Heinzman  interests.  I  could  have  swung  him  back  for  an 
extra  hundred,  but  it  wasn't  worth  while.  They  howl  brib- 
ery at  us  to  distract  attention  from  their  own  perform- 
ances." 

With  this  evasive  reply  Orde  contented  himself.  Whether 
it  satisfied  him  or  whether  he  was  loath  to  pursue  the  sub- 
ject further  it  would  be  impossible  to  say. 

"  It's  cost  us  plenty,  anyway,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 
"  The  proposition's  got  a  load  on  it.  It  will  take  us  a  long 
time  to  get  out  of  debt.  The  river  driving  won't  pay  quite 
so  big  as  we  thought  it  would,"  he  concluded,  with  a  rue- 
ful little  laugh. 

"  It  will  pay  plenty  well  enough,"  replied  Newmark  de- 
cidedly, "  and  it  gives  us  a  vantage  point  to  work  from. 
You  don't  suppose  we  are  going  to  quit  at  river  driving, 
do  you?  We  want  to  look  around  for  some  timber  of  our 
own ;  there's  where  the  big  money  is.  And  perhaps  we  can 
buy  a  schooner  or  two  and  go  into  the  carrying  trade — 
the  country's  alive  with  opportunity.  Newmark  &  Orde 
means  something  to  these  fellows  now.  We  can  have  any- 
thing we  want,  if  we  just  reach  out  for  it." 

His  thin  figure,  ordinarily  slightly  askew,  had  straight- 
ened; his  steel-gray,  impersonal  eyes  had  lit  up  behind  the 
bowed  glasses  and  were  seeing  things  beyond  the  wall  at 
which  they  gazed.  Orde  looked  up  at  him  with  a  sudden 
admiration. 

"  You're  the  brains  of  this  concern,"  said  he. 

"We'll  get  on,"  replied  Newmark,  the  fire  dying  from 
his  eyes. 


XXIX 

IN  the  course  of  the  next  eight  years  Newmark  &  Orde 
floated  high  on  that  flood  of  apparent  prosperity  that 
attends  a  business  well  conceived  and  passably  well 
managed.  The  Boom  and  Driving  Company  made  money, 
of  course,  for  with  the  margin  of  fifty  per  cent  or  there- 
abouts necessitated  by  the  temporary  value  of  the  improve- 
ments, good  years  could  hardly  fail  to  bring  j  ood  returns. 
This,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  a  stock  company.  With 
the  profits  from  that  business  the  two  men  embarked  on  a 
separate  copartnership.  They  made  money  at  this,  too,  but 
the  burden  of  debt  necessitated  by  new  ventures,  constantly 
weighted  by  the  heavy  interest  demanded  at  that  time,  kept 
affairs  on  the  ragged  edge. 

In  addition,  both  Orde  and  Newmark  were  more  in- 
clined to  extension  of  interests  than  to  "  playing  safe."  The 
assets  gained  in  one  venture  were  promptly  pledged  to  an- 
other. The  ramifications  of  debt,  property,  mortgages,  and 
expectations  overlapped  each  other  in  a  cobweb  of  in- 
terests. 

Orde  lived  at  ease  in  a  new  house  of  some  size  sur- 
rounded by  grounds.  He  kept  two  servants :  a  blooded  team 
of  horses  drew  the  successor  to  the  original  buckboard. 
Newmark  owned  a  sail  yacht  of  five  or  six  tons,  in  which, 
quite  solitary,  he  took  his  only  pleasure.  Both  were  con- 
sidered men  of  substance  and  property,  as  indeed  they  were. 
Only,  they  risked  dollars  to  gain  thousands.  A  succession 
of  bad  years,  a  panic-contraction  of  money  markets,  any 
one  of  a  dozen  possible,  though  not  probable,  contingencies 


THE   RIVERMAN  243 

would  render  it  difficult  to  meet  the  obligations  which  con- 
stantly came  due,  and  which  Newmark  kept  busy  devising 
ways  and  means  of  meeting.  If  things  went  well — and 
it  may  be  remarked  that  legitimately  they  should — New- 
mark  &  Orde  would  some  day  be  rated  among  the  mil- 
lionaire firms.  If  things  went  ill,  bankruptcy  could  not  be 
avoided.  There  was  no  middle  ground.  Nor  were  Orde 
and  his  partner  unique  in  this;  practically  every  firm  then 
developing  or  exploiting  the  natural  resources  of  the  coun- 
try found  itself  in  the  same  case. 

Immediately  after  the  granting  of  the  charter  to  drive 
the  river  the  partners  had  offered  them  an  opportunity  of 
acquiring  about  thirty  million  feet  of  timber  remaining 
from  Morrison  &  Daly's  original  holdings.  That  firm  was 
very  anxious  to  begin  development  on  a  large  scale  of  its 
Beeson  Lake  properties  in  the  Saginaw  waters.  Daly  pro- 
posed to  Orde  that  he  take  over  the  remnant,  and  having 
confidence  in  the  young  man's  abilities,  agreed  to  let  him 
have  it  on  long-time  notes.  After  several  consultations  with 
Newmark,  Orde  finally  completed  the  purchase.  Below  the 
booms  they  erected  a  mill,  the  machinery  for  which  they 
had  also  bought  of  Daly,  at  Redding.  The  following  win- 
ter Orde  spent  in  the  woods.  By  spring  he  had  banked, 
ready  to  drive,  about  six  million  feet. 

For  some  years  these  two  sorts  of  activity  gave  the 
partners  about  all  they  could  attend  to.  As  soon  as  the  drive 
had  passed  Redding,  Orde  left  it  in  charge  of  one  of  his 
foremen  while  he  divided  his  time  between  the  booms  and 
the  mill.  Late  in  the  year  his  woods  trips  began,  the  tours 
of  inspection,  of  surveying  for  new  roads,  the  inevitable 
preparation  for  the  long  winter  campaigns  in  the  forest.* 
As  soon  as  the  spring  thaws  began,  once  more  the  drive 
demanded  his  attention.  And  in  marketing  the  lumber, 
manipulating  the  firm's  financial  affairs,  collecting  its  dues 

*  See  The  Blazed  Trail  for  descriptions  of  woods  work. 


244  THE   RIVERMAN 

paying  its  bills,  making  its  purchases,  and  keeping  oiled 
the  intricate  bearing  points  of  its  office  machinery,  New- 
mark  was  busy — and  invaluable. 

At  the  end  of  the  fifth  year  the  opportunity  came, 
through  a  combination  of  a  bad  debt  and  a  man's  death. 
to  get  possession  of  two  lake  schooners.  Orde  at  once  sug- 
gested the  contract  for  a  steam  barge.  Towing  was  then 
in  its  infancy.  The  bulk  of  lake  traffic  was  by  means  of 
individual  sailing  ships — a  method  uncertain  as  to  time. 
Orde  thought  that  a  steam  barge  could  be  built  powerful 
enough  not  only  to  carry  its  own  hold  and  deck  loads, 
but  to  tow  after  it  the  two  schooners.  In  this  manner 
the  crews  could  be  reduced,  and  an  approximate  date 
of  delivery  could  be  guaranteed.  Newmark  agreed  with 
him.  Thus  the  firm,  in  accordance  with  his  prophecy, 
went  into  the  carrying  trade,  for  the  vessels  more  than 
sufficed  for  its  own  needs.  The  freighting  of  lumber 
added  much  to  the  income,  and  the  carrying  of  machin- 
ery and  other  heavy  freight  on  the  return  trip  grew  every 
year. 

But  by  far  the  most  important  acquisition  was  that  of 
the  northern  peninsula  timber.  Most  operators  called  the 
white  pine  along  and  back  from  the  river  inexhaustible 
Orde  did  not  believe  this.  He  saw  the  time,  not  far  distant, 
when  the  world  would  be  compelled  to  look  elsewhere  for 
its  lumber  supply,  and  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  almost 
unknown  North.  After  a  long  investigation  through  agents, 
and  a  month's  land-looking  on  his  own  account,  he  located 
and  purchased  three  hundred  million  feet.  This  was  to  be 
paid  for,  as  usual,  mostly  by  the  firm's  notes  secured  by 
its  other  property.  It  would  become  available  only  in  the 
future,  but  Orde  believed,  as  indeed  the  event  justified,  this 
future  would  prove  to  be  not  so  distant  as  most  people 
supposed. 

As  these  interests  widened,  Orde  became  more  and  more 


THE   RIVERMAN  245 

immersed  in  them.  He  was  forced  to  be  away  all  of  every 
day,  and  more  than  the  bulk  of  every  year.  Nevertheless, 
his  home  life  did  not  suffer  for  it. 

To  Carroll  he  was  always  the  same  big,  hearty,  whole- 
souled  boy  she  had  first  learned  to  love.  She  had  all  his 
confidence.  If  this  did  not  extend  into  business  affairs,  it 
was  because  Orde  had  always  tried  to  get  away  from  them 
when  at  home.  At  first  Carroll  had  attempted  to  keep  in 
the  current  of  her  husband's  activities,  but  as  the  latter 
broadened  in  scope  and  became  more  complex,  she  per- 
ceived  that  their  explanation  wearied  him.  She  grew  out 
of  the  habit  of  asking  him  about  them.  Soon  their  rapid 
advance  had  carried  them  quite  beyond  her  horizon.  To  her, 
also,  as  to  most  women,  the  word  "  business "  connoted 
nothing  but  a  turmoil  and  a  mystery. 

In  all  other  things  they  were  to  each  other  what  they 
had  been  from  the  first.  No  more  children  had  come  to 
them.  Bobby,  however,  had  turned  out  a  sturdy,  honest 
little  fellow,  with  more  than  a  streak  of  his  mother's  charm 
and  intuition.  His  future  was  the  subject  of  all  Orde's 
plans. 

"  I  want  to  give  him  all  the  chance  there  is,"  he  ex- 
plained to  Carroll.  "  A  boy  ought  to  start  where  his 
father  left  off,  and  not  have  to  do  the  same  thing  all 
over  again.  But  being  a  rich  man's  son  isn't  much  of 
a  job." 

"  Why  don't  you  let  him  continue  your  business  ? " 
smiled  Carroll,  secretly  amused  at  the  idea  of  the  small 
person  before  them  ever  doing  anything. 

"  By  the  time  Bobby's  grown  up  this  business  will  all 
be  closed  out,"  replied  Orde  seriously. 

He  continued  to  look  at  his  minute  son  with  puckered 
brow,  until  Carroll  smoothed  out  the  wrinkles  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers. 

"  Of  course,  having  only  a  few  minutes  to  decide,"  she 


246  THE    RIVERMAN 

mocked,  "  perhaps  we'd  better  make  up  our  minus  right 
now  to  have  him  a  street-car  driver." 

"  Yes ! "  agreed  Bobby  unexpectedly,  and  with  em- 
phasis. 

Three  years  after  this  conversation,  which  would  have 
made  Bobby  just  eight,  Orde  came  back  before  six  of  a 
summer  evening,  his  face  alight  with  satisfaction. 

"  Hullo,  bub !  "  he  cried  to  Bobby,  tossing  him  to  his 
shoulder.  "How's  the  kid?" 

They  went  out  together,  while  awaiting  dinner,  to  see 
the  new  setter  puppy  in  the  woodshed. 

"  Named  him  yet  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"Duke,"  said  Bobby. 

Orde  surveyed  the  animal  gravely. 

"  Seems  like  a  good  name,"  said  he. 

After  dinner  the  two  adjourned  to  the  library,  where 
they  sat  together  in  the  "  big  chair,"  and  Bobby,  squirmed 
a  little  sidewise  in  order  the  better  to  see,  watched  the 
smoke  from  his  father's  cigar  as  it  eddied  and  curled  in 
the  air. 

"  Tell  a  story,"  he  commanded  finally. 

"  Well,"  acquiesced  Orde,  "  there  was  once  a  man  who 
had  a  cow " 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  corrected  Bobby. 

He  listened  for  a  moment  or  so. 

"  I  don't  like  that  story,"  he  then  announced.  "  Tell  the 
story  about  the  bears." 

"  But  this  is  a  new  story,"  protested  Orde,  "  and  you've 
heard  about  the  bears  so  many  times." 

"  Bears,"  insisted  Bobby. 

"  Well,  once  upon  a  time  there  were  three  bears — a  big 
bear  and  a  middle-sized  bear  and  a  little  bear — "  began 
Orde  obediently. 

Bobby,  with  a  sigh  of  rapture  and  content,  curled  up 
in  a  snug,  warm  little  ball.  The  twilight  darkened. 


THE    RIVERMAN  247 

*  Blind-man's  holiday ! "  warned  Carroll  behind  them  so 
suddenly  that  they  both  jumped.  "  And  the  sand  man's  been 
at  somebody,  I  know ! " 

She  bore  him  away  to  bed.  Orde  sat  smoking  in  the 
darkness,  staring  straight  ahead  of  him  into  the  future. 
He  believed  he  had  found  the  opportunity — twenty  yean 
distant — for  which  he  had  been  looking  so  long. 


XXX 

A'TER  a  time  Carroll  descended  the  stairs,  chuckling. 
"  Jack,"  she  called  into  the  sitting-room,  "  come 
out  on  the  porch.  What  do  you  suppose  the  young 
man  did  to-night?" 

"  Give  it  up,"  replied  Orde  promptly.  "  No  good  guess- 
ing when  it's  a  question  of  that  youngster's  performances. 
What  was  it?" 

"  He  said  his  '  Now  I  lay  me/  and  asked  blessings  on  you 
and  me,  and  the  grandpas  and  grandmas,  and  Auntie  Kate, 
as  usual.  Then  he  stopped.  '  What  else  ? '  I  reminded  him. 
'  And,'  he  finished  with  a  rush,  '  make-Bobby-a-good-boy- 
and-give-him-plenty-of-bread-'n-butter-'n-apple-sauce ! ' ' 

They  laughed  delightedly  over  this,  clinging  together  like 
two  children.  Then  they  stepped  out  on  the  little  porch 
and  looked  into  the  fathomless  night.  The  sky  was  full  of 
stars,  aloof  and  calm,  but  waiting  breathless  on  the  edge 
of  action,  attending  the  word  of  command  or  the  celestial 
vision,  or  whatever  it  is  for  which  stars  seem  to  wait. 
Along  the  street  the  dense  velvet  shade  of  the  maples  threw 
the  sidewalks  into  impenetrable  blackness.  Sounds  carried 
clearly.  From  the  Welton's,  down  the  street,  came  the 
tinkle  of  a  mandolin  and  an  occasional  low  laugh  from 
the  group  of  young  people  that  nightly  frequented  the  front 
steps.  Tree  toads  chirped  in  unison  or  fell  abruptly  silent 
as  though  by  signal.  All  up  and  down  the  rows  of  houses 
whirred  the  low  monotone  of  the  lawn  sprinklers,  and  the 
aroma  of  their  wetness  was  borne  cool  and  refreshing 
through  the  tepid  air. 


THE    RIVERMAN  249 

Orde  and  his  wife  sat  together  on  the  top  step.  He 
slipped  his  arm  about  her.  They  said  nothing,  but  breathed 
deep  of  the  quiet  happiness  that  filled  their  lives. 

The  gate  latch  clicked  and  two  shadowy  figures  defined 
themselves  approaching  up  the  concrete  walk. 

"  Hullo ! "  called  Orde  cheerfully  into  the  darkness. 

"  Hullo !  "  a  man's  voice  instantly  responded. 

"  Taylor  and  Clara,"  said  Orde  to  Carroll  with  satisfac- 
tion. "  Just  the  man  I  wanted  to  see." 

The  lawyer  and  his  wife  mounted  the  steps.  He  was  a 
quick,  energetic,  spare  man,  with  lean  cheeks,  a  bristling, 
clipped  moustache,  and  a  slight  stoop  to  his  shoulders.  She 
was  small,  piquant,  almost  child-like,  with  a  dainty  up- 
turned nose,  a  large  and  lustrous  eye,  a  constant,  bird-like 
animation  of  manner — the  Folly  of  artists,  the  adorable, 
lovable,  harmless  Folly  standing  tiptoe  on  a  complaisant 
world. 

"Just  the  man  I  wanted  to  see,"  repeated  Orde,  as  the 
two  approached. 

Clara  Taylor  stopped  short  and  considered  him  for  a 
moment. 

"  Let  us  away,"  she  said  seriously  to  Carroll.  "  My  pro- 
phetic soul  tells  me  they  are  going  to  talk  business,  and 
if  any  more  business  is  talked  in  my  presence,  I  shall 
expire  1 " 

Both  men  laughed,  but  Orde  explained  apologetically: 

"  Well,  you  know,  Mrs.  Taylor,  these  are  my  especially 
busy  days  for  the  firm,  and  I  have  to  work  my  private 
affairs  in  when  I  can." 

"  I  thought  Frank  was  very  solicitous  about  my  getting 
out  in  the  air,"  cried  Clara.  "  Come,  Carroll,  let's  wander 
down  the  street  and  see  Mina  Heinzman." 

The  two  interlocked  arms  and  sauntered  along  the  walk. 
Both  men  lit  cigars  and  sat  on  the  top  step  of  the  porch. 

"  Look  here,  Taylor,"  broke  in  Orde  abruptly,  "  you  told 


THE    RIVERMAN 

me  the  other  day  you  had  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  you 
wanted  to  place  somewhere." 

"Yes,"  replied  Taylor. 

"  Well,  I  believe  I  have  just  the  proposition." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  California  pme,"  replied  Orde.     . 

"  California  pine  ?  "  repeated  Taylor,  after  a  slight  pause. 
*  Why  California  ?  That's  a  long  way  off.  And  there's 
no  market,  is  there  ?  Why  way  out  there  ?  " 

"  It's  cheap,"  replied  Orde  succinctly.  "  I  don't  say  it 
will  be  good  for  immediate  returns,  nor  even  for  returns 
in  the  near  future,  but  in  twenty  or  thirty  years  it  ought 
to  pay  big  on  a  small  investment  made  now." 

Taylor  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  figure  it,"  he  objected.  "  We  have 
more  timber  than  we  can  use  in  the  East.  Why  should  we 
go  several  thousand  miles  west  for  the  same  thing  ?  " 

"  When  our  timber  gives  out,  then  we'll  have  to  go 
west,"  said  Orde. 

Taylor  laughed. 

"Laugh  all  you  please,"  rejoined  Orde,  "but  I  tell  you 
Michigan  and  Wisconsin  pine  is  doomed.  Twenty  or  thirty 
years  from  now  there  won't  be  any  white  pine  for  sale." 

"  Nonsense !  "  objected  Taylor.  "  You're  talking  wild. 
We  haven't  even  begun  on  the  upper  peninsula.  After  that 
there's  Minnesota.  And  I  haven't  observed  that  we're  quite 
out  of  timber  on  the  river,  or  the  Muskegon,  or  the  Sagi- 
naw,  or  the  Grand,  or  the  Cheboygan — why,  Great  Scott! 
man,  our  children's  children's  children  may  be  thinking 
of  investing  in  California  timber,  but  that's  about  soon 
enough." 

"All  right,"  said  Orde  quietly.  "Well,  what  do  you 
think  of  Indiana  as  a  good  field  ^or  timber  investment?" 

"  Indiana !  "  cried  Taylor,  amazed.  "  Why,  there's  P* 
timber  there;  it's  a  prairie." 


THE    RIVERMAN 

"  There  used  to  be.  And  all  the  southern  Michigan  farm 
belt  was  timbered,  and  around  here.  We  have  our  stumps 
to  show  for  it,  but  there  are  no  evidences  at  all  farther 
south.  You'd  have  hard  work,  for  instance,  to  persuade  a 
stranger  that  Van  Buren  County  was  once  forest." 

"Was  it?"  asked  Taylor  doubtfully. 

"  It  was.  You  take  your  map  and  see  how  much  area 
has  been  cut  already,  and  how  much  remains.  That'll  open 
your  eyes.  And  remember  all  that  has  been  done  by  crude 
methods  for  a  relatively  small  demand.  The  demand  in- 
creases as  the  country  grows  and  methods  improve.  It 
would  not  surprise  me  if  some  day  thirty  or  forty  millions 
would  constitute  an  average  cut.*  '  Michigan  pine  exhaust- 
less  ! ' — those  fellows  make  me  sick !  " 

"  Sounds  a  little  more  reasonable,"  said  Taylor 
slowly. 

"  It'll  sound  a  lot  more  reasonable  in  five  or  ten  years," 
insisted  Orde,  "  and  then  you'll  see  the  big  men  rushing 
out  into  that  Oregon  and  California  country.  But  now  a 
man  can  get  practically  the  pick  of  the  coast.  There  are 
only  a  few  big  concerns  out  there." 

"  Why  is  it  that  no  one " 

"  Because,"  Orde  cut  him  short,  "  the  big  things  are  for 
the  fellow  who  can  see  far  enough  ahead." 

"  What  kind  of  a  proposition  have  you  ?  "  asked  Taylor 
after  a  pause. 

"  I  can  get  ten  thousand  acres  at  an  average  price  of 
eight  dollars  an  acre,"  replied  Orde. 

"  Acres  ?  What  does  that  mean  in  timber  ?  " 

"  On  this  particular  tract  it  means  about  four  hundred 
million  feet." 

"  That's  about  twenty  cents  a  thousand." 

Orde  nodded. 

"  And  of  course  you  couldn't  operate  for  a  long  time  ?  " 

*  At  the  present  day  some  firms  cut  as  high  as  150,000,000  feet. 


252  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Not  for  twenty,  maybe  thirty,  years/'  replied  Orde 
calmly. 

"  There's  your  interest  on  your  money,  and  taxes,  and 
the  risk  of  fire  and " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  agreed  Orde  impatiently,  "  but 
you're  getting  your  stumpage  for  twenty  cents  or  a  little 
more,  and  in  thirty  years  it  will  be  worth  as  high  as  & 
dollar  and  a  half."  * 

"What!"  cried  Taylor. 

"That  is  my  opinion,"  said  Orde. 

Taylor  relapsed  into  thought. 

"  Look  here,  Orde,"  he  broke  out  finally,  "  how  old  ate 
you?" 

"Thirty-eight.  Why?" 

"  How  much  timber  have  you  in  Michigan  ?  " 

"  About  ten  million  that  we've  picked  up  on  the  river 
since  the  Daly  purchase  and  three  hundred  million  in  the 
northern  peninsula." 

"  Which  will  take  you  twenty  years  to  cut,  and  make 
you  a  million  dollars  or  so  ?  " 

"  Hope  so." 

"  Then  why  this  investment  thirty  years  ahead  ?  " 

"  It's  for  Bobby,"  explained  Orde  simply.  "  A  man  likes 
to  have  his  son  continue  on  in  his  business.  I  can't  do  it 
here,  but  there  I  can.  It  would  take  fifty  years  to  cut  that 
pine,  and  that  will  give  Bobby  a  steady  income  and  * 
steady  business." 

"  Bobby  will  be  well  enough  off,  anyway.  He  won't  hav<! 
to  go  into  business." 

Orde's  brow  puckered. 

"  I  know  a  man — Bobby  is  going  to  work.  A  man  is 
not  a  success  in  life  unless  he  does  something,  and  Bobby 
is  going  to  be  a  success.  Why,  Taylor,"  he  chuckled,  "  the 

*  At  the  present  time  (1908)  sugar  pine  such  as  Orde  described  would 
Bost  $3.50  to  $4. 


THE   RIVERMAN  253 

little  rascal  fills  the  wood-box  for  a  cent  a  time,  and  that's 
all  the  pocket-money  he  gets.  He's  saving  now  to  buy  a 
thousand-dollar  boat.  I've  agreed  to  pool  in  half.  At  his 
present  rate  of  income,  I'm  safe  for  about  sixty  years 
yet." 

"  How  soon  are  you  going  to  close  this  deal  ?  "  asked 
Taylor,  rising  as  he  caught  sight  of  two  figures  coming  up 
the  walk. 

"  I  have  an  option  until  November  I,"  replied  Orde, 
"  If  you  can't  make  it,  I  guess  I  can  swing  it  myself.  By 
the  way,  keep  this  dark." 

Taylor  nodded,  and  the  two  turned  to  defe.id  themselves 
as  best  they  couM  against  Clara's  laughing  attack. 


XXXI 

ORDE  had  said  nothing  to  Newmark  concerning  this 
purposed  new  investment,  nor  did  he  intend  do- 
ing so. 

"  It  is  for  Bobby,"  he  told  himself,  "  and  I  want  Bobby, 
and  no  one  else,  to  run  it.  Joe  would  want  to  take  charge, 
naturally.  Taylor  won't.  He  knows  nothing  of  the  busi- 
ness." 

He  walked  downtown  next  morning  busily  formulating 
his  scheme.  At  the  office  he  found  Newmark  already  seated 
at  his  desk,  a  pile  of  letters  in  front  of  him.  Upon  Orde's 
boisterous  greeting  his  nerves  crisped  slightly,  but  of  this 
there  was  no  outward  sign  beyond  a  tightening  of  his 
hands  on  the  letter  he  was  reading.  Behind  his  eye-glasses 
his  blue,  cynical  eyes  twinkled  like  frost  crystals.  As  al- 
ways, he  was  immaculately  dressed  in  neat  gray  clothes, 
and  carried  in  one  corner  of  his  mouth  an  unlighted  cigar. 

"  Joe,"  said  Orde,  spinning  a  chair  to  Newmark's  roll- 
top  desk  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "  just  how  do  W6 
stand  on  that  upper  peninsula  stumpage  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  How  much  of  it  is  there  ?  You 
know  that  as  well  as  I  do — about  three  hundred  million." 

"  No ;  I  mean  financially." 

"  We've  made  two  payments  of  seventy-five  thousand 
each,  and  have  still  two  to  make  of  the  same  amount." 

"What  could  we  borrow  on  it?" 

"We  don't  want  to  borrow  anything  on  it,"  returned 
Newmark  in  a  flash. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  if  we  should  ?  " 


THE    RFVTEKMAN  255 

"We  might  raise  fifty  or  seventy-five  thousand,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Joe,"  said  Orde,  "  I  want  to  raise  about  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars  on  my  share  in  this  concern,  if  it  can 
be  done." 

"What's  up?"  inquired  Newmark  keenly. 

"  It's  a  private  matter." 

Newmark  said  nothing,  but  for  some  time  thought  bus- 
ily, his  light  blue  eyes  narrowed  to  a  slit. 

"  I'll  have  to  figure  on  it  a  while,"  said  he  at  last,  and 
turned  back  to  his  mail.  All  day  he  worked  hard,  with 
only  a  fifteen-minute  intermission  for  a  lunch  which  was 
brought  up  from  the  hotel  below.  At  six  o'clock  he  slammed 
shut  the  desk.  He  descended  the  stairs  with  Orde,  from 
whom  he  parted  at  their  foot,  and  walked  precisely  away, 
his  tall,  thin  figure  held  rigid  and  slightly  askew,  his  pale 
eyes  slitted  behind  his  eye-glasses,  the  unlighted  cigar  in 
one  corner  of  his  straight  lips.  To  the  occasional  passerby 
he  bowed  coldly  and  with  formality.  At  the  corner  below 
he  bore  to  the  left,  and  after  a  short  walk  entered  the 
small  one-story  house  set  well  back  from  the  sidewalk 
among  the  clumps  of  oleanders.  Here  he  turned  into  a 
study,  quietly  and  richly  furnished  ten  years  in  advance 
of  the  taste  then  prevalent  in  Monrovia,  where  he  sank 
into  a  deep-cushioned  chair  and  lit  the  much-chewed  cigar. 
For  some  moments  he  lay  back  with  his  eyes  shut.  Then 
he  opened  them  to  look  with  approval  on  the  dark  walnut 
book-cases,  the  framed  prints  and  etchings,  the  bronzed 
student's  lamp  on  the  square  table  desk,  the  rugs  on  the 
polished  floor.  He  picked  up  a  magazine,  into  which  he 
dipped  for  ten  minutes. 

The  door  opened  noiselessly  behind  him. 

"  Mr.  Newmark,  sir,"  came  a  respectful  voice,  "  it  is 
just  short  of  seven." 

"  Very  well/'  replied  Newmarkt  without  looking  around 


256  THE   RIVERMAN 

The  man  withdrew  as  softly  as  he  had  come.  After  a 
moment,  Newmark  replaced  the  magazine  on  the  table, 
yawned,  threw  aside  the  cigar,  of  which  he  had  smoked 
but  an  inch,  and  passed  from  his  study  into  his  bedroom 
across  the  hall.  This  contained  an  exquisite  Colonial  four- 
poster,  with  a  lowboy  and  dresser  to  match,  and  was  pa- 
pered and  carpeted  in  accordance  with  these,  its  chief 
ornaments.  Newmark  bathed  in  the  adjoining  bathroom, 
shaved  carefully  between  the  two  wax  lights  which  were 
his  whim,  and  dressed  in  what  were  then  known  as  "  swal- 
low-tail "  clothes.  Probably  he  was  the  only  man  in  Mon- 
rovia at  that  moment  so  apparelled.  Then  calmly,  and  with 
all  the  deliberation  of  one  under  fire  of  a  hundred  eyes, 
he  proceeded  to  the  dining-room,  where  waited  the  man 
who  had  a  short  time  before  reminded  him  of  the  hour.  He 
was  a  solemn,  dignified  man,  whose  like  was  not  to  be 
found  elsewhere  this  side  the  city.  He,  too,  wore  the 
"  swallow-tail,"  but  its  buttons  were  of  gilt. 

Newmark  seated  himself  in  a  leather-upholstered  mahog- 
any chair  before  a  small,  round,  mahogany  table.  The  room 
was  illuminated  only  by  four  wax  candles  with  red  shades. 
They  threw  into  relief  the  polish  of  mahogany,  the  glitter 
of  glass,  the  shine  of  silver,  but  into  darkness  the  detail 
of  massive  sideboard,  dull  panelling,  and  the  two  or  three 
dark-toned  sporting  prints  on  the  wall. 

"  You  may  serve  dinner,  Mallock,"  said  Newmark. 

He  ate  deliberately  and  with  enjoyment  the  meal,  ex- 
quisitely prepared  and  exquisitely  presented  to  him.  With 
it  he  drank  a  single  glass  of  Burgundy — a  deed  that  would, 
in  the  eyes  of  Monrovia,  have  condemned  him  as  certainly 
as  driving  a  horse  on  Sunday  or  playing  cards  for  a  stake. 
Afterward  he  returned  to  the  study,  whither  Mallock 
brought  coffee.  He  lit  another  cigar,  opened  a  drawer  in 
his  desk,  extracted  therefrom  some  bank-books  and  small 
personal  account  books,  From  these  he  figured  all  th$ 


THE   RIVERMAN  257 

evening.  His  cigar  went  out,  but  he  did  not  notice  that, 
and  chewed  away  quite  contentedly  on  the  dead  butt. 
When  he  had  finished,  his  cold  eye  exhibited  a  gleam  of 
satisfaction.  He  had  resolved  on  a  course  of  action.  At  ten 
o'clock  he  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  Mallock  closed  the  door  behind  him 
promptly  upon  the  stroke  of  eight.  It  was  strange  that  not 
one  living  soul  but  Mallock  had  ever  entered  Newmark's 
abode.  Curiosity  had  at  first  brought  a  few  callers;  but 
these  were  always  met  by  the  imperturbable  servant  with 
so  plausible  a  reason  for  his  master's  absence  that  the 
visitors  had  departed  without  a  suspicion  that  they  had 
been  deliberately  excluded.  And  as  Newmark  made  no 
friends  and  excited  little  interest,  the  attempts  to  cultivate 
him  gradually  ceased. 

"  Orde,"  said  Newmark,  as  the  former  entered  the  of- 
fice, "  I  think  I  can  arrange  this  matter." 

Orde  drew  up  a  chair. 

"  I  talked  last  evening  with  a  man  from  Detroit  named 
Thayer,  who  thinks  he  may  advance  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars  on  a  mortgage  on  our  northern  peninsula  stumpage. 
For  that,  of  course,  we  will  give  the  firm's  note  with  in- 
terest at  ten  per  cent.  I  will  turn  this  over  to  you." 

"  That's—"  began  Orde. 

"  Hold  on,"  interrupted  Newmark.  "  As  collateral  secu- 
rity you  will  deposit  for  me  your  stock  in  the  Boom  Com- 
pany, indorsed  in  blank.  If  you  do  not  pay  the  full  amount 
of  the  firm's  note  to  Thayer,  then  the  stock  will  be  turned 
in  to  me." 

"  I  see,"  said  Orde. 

"  Now,  don't  misunderstand  me,"  said  Newmark  drily. 
"  This  is  your  own  affair,  and  I  do  not  urge  it  on  you. 
If  we  raise  as  much  as  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  on 
that  upper  peninsula  stumpage,  it  will  be  all  it  can  stand, 
for  next  year  we  must  make  a  third  payment  on  it.  If  you 


258  THE   RIVERMAN 

take  that  money,  it  is  of  course  proper  that  you  pa?  the 
interest  on  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Orde. 

"  And  if  there's  any  possibility  of  the  foreclosure  of  the 
mortgage,  it  is  only  right  that  you  run  all  the  risk  of  loss 
—not  myself." 

"  Certainly,"  repeated  Orde. 

"  From  another  point  of  view,"  went  on  Newmark,  "  you 
are  practically  mortgaging  your  interest  in  the  Boom  Com- 
pany for  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  That  would  make, 
on  the  usual  basis  of  a  mortgage,  your  share  worth  above 
two  hundred  thousand — and  four  hundred  thousand  is  a 
high  valuation  of  our  property." 

"  That  looks  more  than  decent  on  your  part,"  said  Orde. 

"Of  course,  it's  none  of  my  business  what  you  intend 
to  do  with  this,"  went  on  Newmark,  "but  unless  you're 
sure  you  can  meet  these  notes,  I  should  strongly  advise 
against  it." 

"  The  same  remark  applies  to  any  mortgage,"  rejoined 
Orde. 

"  Exactly." 

"For  how  long  a  time  could  I  get  this?"  asked  Ordr 
at  length. 

"I  couldn't  promise  it  for  longer  than  five  years,"  re- 
plied Newmark. 

"  That  would  make  about  fifteen  thousand  a  year  ?  " 

"And  interest." 

"  Certainly — and  interest.  Well,  I  don't  see  why  I  can't 
carry  that  easily  on  our  present  showing  and  prospects." 

"  If  nothing  untoward  happens,"  insisted  Newmark  de- 
termined to  put  forward  all  objections  possible. 

"It's  not  much  risk,"  said  Orde  hopefully.  "There's 
nothing  surer  than  lumber.  We'll  pay  the  notes  easily 
enough  as  we  cut,  and  the  Boom  Company's  on  velvet 
now.  What  do  our  earnings  figure,  anyway  ?  " 


THE    RIVERMAN  259 

"  We're  driving-  one  hundred  and  fifty  million  at  a  profit 
of  about  sixty  cents  a  thousand,"  said  Newmark. 

"  That's  ninety  thousand  dollars — in  five  years,  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand,"  said  Orde,  sucking  his  pencil. 

"  We  ought  to  clean  up  five  dollars  a  thousand  on  our 
mill." 

"  That's  about  a  hundred  thousand  on  what  we've  got 
left." 

"  And  that  little  barge  business  nets  us  about  twelve  or 
fifteen  thousand  a  year." 

"  For  the  five  years  about  sixty  thousand  more.  Let's 
see — that's  a  total  of  say  six  hundred  thousand  dollars  in 
five  years/' 

"  We  will  have  to  take  up  in  that  time,"  said  Newmark, 
who  seemed  to  have  the  statistics  at  his  finger-tips,  "  the 
two  payments  on  our  timber,  the  note  on  the  First  Na- 
tional, the  Commercial  note,  the  remaining  liabilities  on  the 
Boom  Company — about  three  hundred  thousand  all  told, 
counting  the  interest." 

Orde  crumpled  the  paper  and  threw  it  into  the  waste 
basket. 

"  Correct,"  said  he.  "  Good  enough.  I  ought  to  get  along 
on  a  margin  like  that." 

He  went  over  to  his  own  desk,  where  he  again  set  to 
figuring  on  his  pad.  The  results  he  eyed  a  little  doubtfully. 
Each  year  he  must  pay  in  interest  the  sum  of  seven  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars.  Each  year  he  would  have  to  count  on 
a  proportionate  saving  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars  toward 
payment  of  the  notes.  In  addition,  he  must  live. 

"  The  Orde  family  is  going  to  be  mighty  hard  up,"  said 
he,  whistling  humorously. 

But  Orde  was  by  nature  and  training  sanguine  and  fond 
of  big  risks. 

"  Never  mind ;  it's  for  Bobby,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  And 
maybe  the  rate  of  interest  will  go  down.  And  I'll  be  able 


260  THE   RIVERMAN 

to  borrow  on  the  California  tract  if  anything  does  go 
wrong." 

He  put  on  his  hat,  thrust  a  bundle  of  papers  into  his 
pocket,  and  stepped  across  the  hall  into  Taylor's  office. 

The  lawyer  he  found  tipped  back  in  his  revolving  chair, 
reading  a  printed  brief. 

"  Frank,"  began  Orde  immediately,  "  I  came  to  see  you 
about  that  California  timber  matter." 

Taylor  laid  down  the  brief  and  removed  his  eye-glasses, 
with  which  he  began  immediately  to  tap  the  fingers  of  his 
left  hand. 

"  Sit  down,  Jack,"  said  he.  "  I'm  glad  you  came  in.  I 
was  going  to  try  to  see  you  some  time  to-day.  I've  been 
thinking  the  matter  over  very  carefully  since  the  other 
day,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  too  steep 
for  me.  I  don't  doubt  the  investment  a  bit,  but  the  returns 
are  too  far  off.  Fifteen  thousand  means  a  lot  more  to  me 
than  it  does  to  you,  and  I've  got  to  think  of  the  imme- 
diate future.  I  hope  you  weren't  counting  on  me " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  broke  in  Orde.  "  As  I  told  you, 
I  ran  swing  the  thing  myself,  and  only  mentioned  it  to 
you  on  the  off  chance  you  might  want  to  invest.  Now, 
what  I  want  is  this — "  he  proceeded  to  outline  carefully 
the  agreement  between  himself  and  Newmark  while  the 
lawyer  took  notes  and  occasionally  interjected  a  question. 

"All  right,"  said  the  latter,  when  the  details  had  been 
mastered.  "  I'll  draw  the  necessary  notes  and  papers." 

"  Now,"  went  on  Orde,  producing  the  bundle  of  papers 
from  his  pocket,  "  here's  the  abstract  of  title.  I  wish  you'd 
look  it  over.  It's  a  long  one,  but  not  complicated,  as  near 
as  I  can  make  out.  Trace  seems  to  have  acquired  this  tract 
mostly  from  the  original  homesteaders  and  the  like,  who, 
of  course,  take  title  direct  from  the  government.  But  natu- 
rally there  are  a  heap  of  them,  and  I  want  you  to  look  it 
over  to  be  sure  everything's  shipshape." 


THE   RIVERMAN  261 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Taylor,  reaching  for  the  papers. 

"  One  other  thing,"  concluded  Orde,  uncrossing  his  legs. 
"  I  want  this  investment  to  get  no  further  than  the  office 
door.  You  see,  this  is  for  Bobby,  and  I've  given  a  lot  of 
thought  to  that  sort  of  thing;  and  nothing  spoils  a  man 
sooner  than  to  imagine  the  thing's  all  cut  and  dried  for 
him,  and  nothing  keeps  him  going  like  the  thought  that 
he's  got  to  rustle  his  own  opportunities.  You  and  I  know 
that.  Bobby's  going  to  have  the  best  education  possible; 
he's  going  to  learn  to  be  a  lumberman  by  practical  experi- 
ence, and  that  practical  experience  he'll  get  with  other  peo- 
ple. No  working  for  his  dad  in  Bobby's,  I  can  tell  you. 
When  he  gets  through  college,  I'll  get  him  a  little  job 
clerking  with  some  good  firm,  and  he'll  have  a  chance  to 
show  what  is  in  him  and  to  learn  the  business  from  the 
ground  up,  the  way  a  man  ought  to.  Of  course,  I'll  make 
arrangements  that  he  has  a  real  chance.  Then,  when  he's 
worked  into  the  harness  a  little,  the  old  man  will  take  him 
out  and  show  him  the  fine  big  sugar  pine  and  say  to  him, 
'  There,  my  boy,  there's  your  opportunity,  and  you've  earned 
it.  How  does  Orde  &  Son  sound  to  you  ? '  What  do  you 
think  of  it,  Frank?" 

Taylor  nodded  several  times. 

"  I  believe  you're  on  the  right  track,  and  I'll  help  you 
all  I  can,"  said  he  briefly. 

"  So,  of  course,  I  want  to  keep  the  thing  dead  secret," 
continued  Orde.  "  You're  the  only  man  who  knows  any- 
thing about  it.  I'm  not  even  going  to  buy  directly  under 
my  own  name.  I'm  going  to  incorporate  myself,"  he  said, 
with  a  grin.  "  You  know  how  those  things  will  get  out, 
and  how  they  always  get  back  to  the  wrong  people." 
N  "  Count  on  me,"  Taylor  assured  him. 
-'  As  Orde  walked  home  that  evening,  after  a  hot  day,  his 
mind  was  full  of  speculation  as  to  the  immediate  future. 
He  had  a  local  reputation  for  wealth,  and  no  one  knew 


262  THE    RIVERMAN 

better  than  himself  how  important  it  is  for  a  man  in  debt 
to  keep  up  appearances.  Nevertheless,  decided  retrenchment 
would  be  necessary.  After  Bobby  had  gone  to  bed,  he  ex- 
plained this  to  his  wife. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  she  asked  quickly.  "  Is  the  firm 
losing  money  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Orde,  "  it's  a  matter  of  reinvestment."  He 
hesitated.  "  It's  a  dead  secret,  which  I  don't  want  to  get 
out,  but  I'm  thinking  of  buying  some  western  timber  for 
Bobby  when  he  grows  up." 

Carroll  laughed  softly. 

"  You  so  relieve  my  mind,"  she  smiled  at  him.  "  I  was 
afraid  you'd  decided  on  the  street-car-driver  idea.  Why, 
sweetheart,  you  know  perfectly  well  we  could  go  back  to 
the  little  house  next  the  church  and  be  as  happy  as  larks." 


XXXII 

IN  the  meantime  Newmark  had  closed  his  desk,  picked 
his  hat  from  the  nail,  and  marched  precisely  down  the 
street  to  Heinzman's  office.  He  found  the  little  German 
in.  Newmark  demanded  a  private  interview,  and  without 
preliminary  plunged  into  the  business  that  had  brought 
him.  He  had  long  since  taken  Heinzman's  measure,  as,  in- 
deed, he  had  taken  the  measure  of  every  other  man  with 
whom  he  did  or  was  likely  to  do  business. 

"  Heinzman,"  said  he  abruptly,  "  my  partner  wants  to 
raise  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  for  his  personal  use. 
I  have  agreed  to  get  him  that  money  from  the  firm." 

Heinzman  sat  immovable,  his  round  eyes  blinking  behind 
his  big  spectacles. 

"  Proceed,"  said  he  shrewdly. 

"  As  security  in  case  he  cannot  pay  the  notes  the  firm 
will  have  to  give,  he  has  signed  an  agreement  to  turn  over 
to  me  his  undivided  one-half  interest  in  our  enterprises." 

"  Veil  ?  You  vant  to  borrow  dot  money  of  me  ?  "  asked 
Heinzman.  "  I  could  not  raise  it." 

"  I  know  that  perfectly  well,"  replied  Newmark  coolly. 
"  You  are  going  to  have  difficulty  meeting  your  July  notes, 
as  it  is." 

Heinzman  hardly  seemed  to  breathe,  but  a  flicker  of  reel 
blazed  in  his  eye. 

"  Proceed,"  he  repeated  non-committally,  after  a  moment. 

"  I  intend,"  went  on  Newmark,  "  to  furnish  this  money 
myself.  It  must,  however,  seem  to  be  loaned  by  another. 
I  want  you  to  lend  this  money  on  mortgage." 

263 


264  THE   RIVERMAN 

"What  for?"  asked  Heinzman. 

"  For  a  one  tenth  of  Orde's  share  in  case  he  does  not 
meet  those  notes." 

"  But  he  vill  meet  the  notes,"  objected  Heinzman.  "  You 
are  a  prosperous  concern.  I  know  somethings  of  your  busi' 
ness,  also." 

"  He  thinks  he  will,"  rejoined  Newmark  grimly.  "  I  will 
merely  point  out  to  you  that  his  entire  income  is  from  the 
firm,  and  that  from  this  income  he  must  save  twenty-odd 
thousand  a  year." 

"  If  the  firm  has  hard  luck — "  said  Heinzman. 

"  Exactly,"  finished  Newmark. 

"  Vy  you  come  to  me  ?  "  demanded  Heinzman  at  length. 

"  Well,  I'm  offering  you  a  chance  to  get  even  with  Orde. 
I  don't  imagine  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Vat's  de  matter  mit  my  gettin'  ef en  with  you,  too  ?  " 
cried  Heinzman.  "Ain't  you  beat  me  out  at  Lansing?" 

Newmark  smiled  coldly  under  his  clipped  moustache. 

"  I'm  offering  you  the  chance  of  making  anywhere  from 
thirty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Perhaps.  And  suppose  this  liddle  scheme  don't  work 
out?" 

"  And,"  pursued  Newmark  calmly,  "  I'll  carry  you  over 
in  your  present  obligations."  He  suddenly  hit  the  arm  of 
his  chair  with  his  clenched  fist.  "  Heinzman,  if  you  don't 
make  those  July  payments,  what's  to  become  of  you? 
Where's  your  timber  and  your  mills  and  your  new  house 
— and  that  pretty  daughter  of  yours  ?  " 

Heinzman  winced  visibly. 

"  I  vill  get  an  extension  of  time,"  said  he  feebly. 

"  Will  you  ?  "  countered  Newmark. 

The  two  men  looked  each  other  in  the  eye  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Veil,  maybe,"  laughed  Heinzman  uneasily.  "  It  looks 
to  me  like  a  winner." 


THE   RIVERMAN  265 

"  All  right,  then,"  said  Newmark  briskly.  "  I'll  make  out 
a  mortgage  at  ten  per  cent  for  you,  and  you'll  lend  the 
money  on  it.  At  the  proper  time,  if  things  happen  that  way, 
you  will  foreclose.  That's  all  you  have  to  do  with  it.  Then, 
when  the  timber  land  comes  to  you  under  the  foreclose, 
you  will  reconvey  an  undivided  nine-tenths'  interest — for 
proper  consideration,  of  course,  and  without  recording  the 
deed." 

Heinzman  laughed  with  assumed  lightness. 

"  Suppose  I  fool  you,"  said  he.  "  I  guess  I  joost  keep 
i1  for  mineself." 

Newmark  looked  at  him  coldly. 

"  I  wouldn't,"  he  advised.  "  You  may  remember  the 
member  from  Lapeer  County  in  that  charter  fight?  And 
the  five  hundred  dollars  for  his  vote?  Try  it  on,  and  see 
how  much  evidence  I  can  bring  up.  It's  called  bribery  in 
this  State,  and  means  penitentiary  usually." 

"  You  don't  take  a  joke,"  complained  Heinzman. 

Newmark  arose. 

"  It's  understood,  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  How  so  I  know  you  play  fair  ?  "  asked  the  German. 

"You  don't.  It's  a  case  where  we  have  to  depend  more 
or  less  on  each  other.  But  I  don't  see  what  you  stand  to 
lose — and  anyway  you'll  get  carried  over  those  July  pay- 
ments," Newmark  reminded  him. 

Heinzman  was  plainly  uneasy  and  slightly  afraid  of  these 
new  waters  in  which  he  swam. 

"If  you  reduce  the  firm's  profits,  he  iss  going  to  sus- 
pect," he  admonished. 

"  Who  said  anything  about  reducing  the  firm's  profits  ?  " 
said  Newmark  impatiently.  "If  it  does  work  out  that  way, 
we'll  win  a  big  thing;  if  it  does  not,  we'll  lose  nothing." 

He  nodded  to  Heinzman  and  left  the  office.  His  de- 
meanour was  as  dry  and  precise  as  ever.  No  expression 
illuminated  his  impassive  countenance.  If  he  felt  the  slighfc- 


266  THE    RIVERMAN 

est  uneasiness  over  having  practically  delivered  his  inten- 
tions to  the  keeping  of  another,  he  did  not  show  it.  For 
one  thing,  an  accomplice  was  absolutely  essential.  And, 
too,  he  held  the  German  by  his  strongest  passions — his 
avarice,  his  dread  of  bankruptcy,  his  pride,  and  his  fear  of 
the  penitentiary.  As  he  entered  the  office  of  his  own  firm, 
his  eye  fell  on  Orde's  bulky  form  seated  at  the  desk.  He 
paused  involuntarily,  and  a  slight  shiver  shook  his  frame 
from  head  to  foot — the  dainty,  instinctive  repulsion  of  a 
cat  for  a  large  robustious  dog.  Instantly  controlling  him- 
self, he  stepped  forward. 

"  I've  made  the  loan,"  he  announced. 

Orde  looked  up  with  interest. 

"  The  banks  wouldn't  touch  northern  peninsula,"  said 
Newmark  steadily,  "  so  I  had  to  go  to  private  individuals." 

"  So  you  said.  Don't  care  who  deals  it  out,"  laughed 
Orde. 

"  Thayer  backed  out,  so  finally  I  got  the  whole  amount 
from  Heinzman,"  Newmark  announced. 

"Didn't  know  the  old  Dutchman  was  that  well  off," 
said  Orde,  after  a  slight  pause. 

"  Can't  tell  about  those  secretive  old  fellows,"  said  New- 
mark. 

Orde  hesitated. 

"  I  didn't  know  he  was  friendly  enough  to  lend  us 
money." 

"  Business  is  business,"  replied  Newmark. 


XXXIII 

THERE  exists  the  legend  of  an  eastern  despot  who, 
wishing  to  rid  himself  of  a  courtier,  armed  the  man 
and  shut  him  in  a  dark  room.  The  victim  knew 
he  was  to  fight  something,  but  whence  it  was  to  come, 
when,  or  of  what  nature  he  was  unable  to  guess.  In  the 
event,  while  groping  tense  for  an  enemy,  he  fell  under 
the  fatal  fumes  of  noxious  gases. 

From  the  moment  Orde  completed  the  secret  purchase 
of  the  California  timber  lands  from  Trace,  he  became  an 
unwitting  participant  in  one  of  the  strangest  duels  known 
to  business  history.  Newmark  opposed  to  him  all  the 
subtleties,  all  the  ruses  and  expedients  to  which  his  posi- 
tion lent  itself.  Orde,  sublimely  unconscious,  deployed  the 
magnificent  resources  of  strength,  energy,  organisation,  and 
combative  spirit  that  animated  his  pioneer's  soul.  The  occult 
manoeuvrings  of  Newmark  called  out  fresh  exertions  on 
the  part  of  Orde. 

Newmark  worked  under  this  disadvantage:  he  had  care- 
fully to  avoid  the  slightest  appearance  of  an  attitude  in- 
imical to  the  firm's  very  best  prosperity.  A  breath  of  sus- 
picion would  destroy  his  plans.  If  the  smallest  untoward 
incident  should  ever  bring  it  clearly  before  Orde  that  New- 
mark  might  have  an  interest  in  reducing  profits,  he  could 
not  fail  to  tread  out  the  logic  of  the  latter's  devious  ways. 
For  this  reason  Newmark  could  not  as  yet  fight  even  in 
the  twilight.  He  did  not  dare  make  bad  sales,  awkward 
transactions.  In  spite  of  his  best  efforts,  he  could  not  suc- 
ceed, without  the  aid  of  chance,  in  striking  a  blow  from 

367 


268  THE   RIVERMAN 

which  Orde  could  not  recover.  The  profits  of  the  first  year 
were  not  quite  up  to  the  usual  standard,  but  they  sufficed. 
Newmark's  finesse  cut  in  two  the  firm's  income  of  the  sec- 
ond year.  Orde  roused  himself.  With  his  old-time  energy 
of  resource,  he  hurried  the  woods  work  until  an  especially 
big  cut  gave  promise  of  recouping  the  losses  of  the  year 
before.  Newmark  found  himself  struggling  against  a  force 
greater  than  he  had  imagined  it  to  be.  Blinded  and  bound, 
it  nevertheless  made  head  against  his  policy.  Newmark  was 
forced  to  a  temporary  quiescence.  He  held  himself  watch- 
ful, intent,  awaiting  the  opportunity  which  chance  should 
bring. 

Chance  seemed  by  no  means  in  haste.  The  end  of  the 
fourth  year  found  Newmark  puzzled.  Orde  had  paid  regu- 
larly the  interest  on  his  notes.  How  much  he  had  been 
able  to  save  toward  the  redemption  of  the  notes  themselves 
his  partner  was  unable  to  decide.  It  depended  entirely  on 
how  much  the  Ordes  had  disbursed  in  living  expenses, 
whether  or  not  Orde  had  any  private  debts,  and  whether 
or  not  he  had  private  resources.  In  the  meantime  New- 
mark  contented  himself  with  tying  up  the  firm's  assets  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  render  it  impossible  to  raise  money  on 
its  property  when  the  time  should  come. 

iWhat  Orde  regarded  as  a  series  of  petty  annoyances 
had  made  the  problem  of  paying  for  the  California  timber 
a  matter  of  greater  difficulty  than  he  had  supposed  it  would 
be.  A  pressure  whose  points  of  support  he  could  not  place 
was  closing  slowly  on  him.  Against  this  pressure  he  ex- 
erted himself.  It  made  him  a  trifle  uneasy,  but  it  did  not 
worry  him.  The  margin  of  safety  was  not  as  broad  as  he 
had  reckoned,  but  it  existed.  And  in  any  case,  if  worse 
came  to  worst,  he  could  always  mortgage  the  California 
timber  for  enough  to  make  up  the  difference — and  more. 
Against  this  expedient,  however,  he  opposed  a  sentimental 
obstinacy.  It  was  Bobby's,  and  he  objected  to  encumbering 


THE   RIVERMAN  269 

it.  In  fact,  Orde  was  capable  of  a  prolonged  and  bitter 
struggle  to  avoid  doing  so.  Nevertheless,  it  was  there — an 
asset.  A  loan  on  its  security  would,  with  what  he  had  set 
aside,  more  than  pay  the  notes  on  the  northern  peninsula 
stumpage.  Orde  felt  perfectly  easy  in  his  mind.  He  was  in 
the  position  of  many  of  our  rich  men's  sons  who,  quite 
sincerely  and  earnestly,  go  penniless  to  the  city  to  make 
their  way.  They  live  on  their  nine  dollars  a  week,  and  go 
hungry  when  they  lose  their  jobs.  They  stand  on  their  own 
feet,  and  yet — in  case  of  severe  illness  or  actual  starvation 
— the  old  man  is  there !  It  gives  them  a  courage  to  be  con- 
tented on  nothing.  So  Orde  would  have  gone  to  almost  any 
lengths  to  keep  free  "  Bobby's  tract,"  but  it  stood  always 
between  himself  and  disaster.  And  a  loan  on  western  tim- 
ber could  be  paid  off  just  as  easily  as  a  loan  on  eastern 
timber,  when  you  came  right  down  to  that.  Even  could  he 
have  known  his  partner's  intentions,  they  would,  on  this 
account,  have  caused  him  no  uneasiness,  however  angry 
they  would  have  made  him,  or  however  determined  to  break 
the  partnership.  Even  though  Newmark  destroyed  utterly 
the  firm's  profits  for  the  remaining  year  and  a  half  the 
notes  had  to  run,  he  could  not  thereby  ruin  Orde's  chances. 
A  loan  on  the  California  timber  would  solve  all  problems 
now.  In  this  reasoning  Orde  would  have  committed  the 
mistake  of  all  large  and  generous  temperaments  when  called 
upon  to  measure  natures  more  subtle  than  their  own.  He 
would  have  underestimated  both  Newmark's  resources  and 
his  own  grasp  of  situations.* 

*  The  author  has  considered  it  useless  to  burden  the  course  of  the  narra- 
tive with  a  detailed  account  of  Newmark's  financial  manoeuvres.  Realising, 
however,  that  a  large  class  of  his  readers  might  be  interested  in  the  exact 
particulars,  he  herewith  gives  a  sketch  of  the  transactions. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  at  the  time — 1878 — Orde  first  came  in  need  of 
money  for  the  purpose  of  buying  the  California  timber,  the  firm,  Newmark 
&  Orde,  owned  in  the  northern  peninsula  300,000,000  feet  of  pine.  On 
tnis  they  had  paid  $150,000,  and  owed  still  a  like  amount.  They  borrowed 
$75,000  on  it,  giving  a  note  secured  by  mortgage  due  in  1883.  Orde  took 


270  THE   RIVERMAN 

Affairs  stood  thus  in  the  autumn  before  the  year  the 
notes  would  come  due.  The  weather  had  been  beautiful. 
A  perpetual  summer  seemed  to  have  embalmed  the  world 
in  its  forgetfulness  of  times  and  seasons.  Navigation  re- 
mained open  through  October  and  into  November.  No  se- 
vere storms  had  as  yet  swept  the  lakes.  The  barge  and  her 
two  tows  had  made  one  more  trip  than  had  been  thought 
possible.  It  had  been  the  intention  to  lay  them  up  for  the 

this,  giving  in  return  his  note  secured  by  the  Boom  Company's  stock.  In 
1879  and  1880  they  made  the  two  final  payments  on  the  timber;  so  that  by 
the  latter  date  they  owned  the  land  free  of  encumbrance  save  for  the  mort- 
gage of  $75,000.  Since  Newmark's  plan  had  always  contemplated  the 
eventual  foreclosure  of  this  mortgage,  it  now  became  necessary  further  to 
encumber  the  property.  Otherwise,  since  a  property  worth  considerably 
above  $300,000  carried  only  a  $75,000  mortgage,  it  would  be  possible,  when 
the  latter  came  due,  to  borrow  a  further  sum  on  a  second  mortgage  with 
which  to  meet  the  obligations  of  the  first.  Therefore  Newmark,  in  1881, 
approached  Orde  with  the  request  that  the  firm  raise  $70,000  by  means  of  a 
second  mortgage  on  the  timber.  This  $70,000  he  proposed  to  borrow 
personally,  giving  his  note  due  in  1885  and  putting  up  the  same  collateral  as 
Orde  had — that  is  to  say,  his  stock  in  the  Boom  Company.  To  this  Orde 
could  hardly  in  reason  oppose  an  objection,  as  it  nearly  duplicated  his  own 
transaction  of  1878.  Newmark  therefore,  through  Heinzman,  lent  this  sum 
to  himself. 

It  may  now  be  permitted  to  forecast  events  in  the  line  of  Newmark's 
reasoning. 

If  his  plans  should  work  out,  this  is  what  would  happen:  in  1883  the 
firm's  note  for  $75,000  would  come  due.  Orde  would  be  unable  to  pay  it. 
Therefore  at  once  his  stock  in  the  Boom  Company  would  become  the  property 
of  Newmark  &  Orde.  Newmark  would  profess  himself  unable  to  raise 
enough  from  the  firm  to  pay  the  mortgage.  The  second  mortgage  from 
which  he  had  drawn  his  personal  loan  would  render  it  impossible  for  the 
firm  to  raise  more  money  on  the  land.  A  foreclosure  would  follow.  Through 
Heinzman,  Newmark  would  buy  in.  As  he  had  himself  loaned  the  money 
to  himself — again  through  Heinzman — on  the  second  mortgage,  the  latter 
would  occasion  him  no  loss. 

The  net  results  of  the  whole  transaction  would  be:  first,  that  Newmark 
would  have  acquired  personally  the  300,000,000  feet  of  northern  peninsula 
timber;  and,  second,  that  Orde's  personal  share  in  the  stock  company  would 
now  be  held  in  partnership  by  the  two.  Thus,  in  order  to  gain  so  large  a 
stake,  it  would  pay  Newmark  to  suffer  considerable  loss  jointly  with  Orde 
in  the  induced  misfortunes  of  the  firm. 

Incidentally  it  might  be  remarked  that  Newmark,  of  course,  purposed 
paying  his  own  note  to  the  firm  when  it  should  fall  due  in  1885,  thus  saving 
for  himself  the  Boom  Company  stock  which  he  had  put  up  as  collateral. 


THE   RIVERMAN  271 

winter,  but  the  weather  continued  so  mild  that  Orde  sug- 
gested they  be  laden  with  a  consignment  for  Jones  & 
Mabley,  of  Chicago. 

"  Did  intend  to  ship  by  rail,"  said  he.  "  They're  all  '  up- 
pers,' so  it  would  pay  all  right.  But  we  can  save  all  kinds 
of  money  by  water,  and  they  ought  to  skip  over  there  in 
twelve  to  fifteen  hours." 

Accordingly,  the  three  vessels  were  laid  alongside  the 
wharves  at  the  mill,  and  as  fast  as  possible  the  selected 
lumber  was  passed  into  their  holds.  Orde  departed  for  the 
woods  to  start  the  cutting  as  soon  as  the  first  belated  snow 
should  fall. 

This  condition  seemed,  however,  to  delay.  During  each 
night  it  grew  cold.  The  leaves,  after  their  blaze  and  riot 
of  colour,  turned  crisp  and  crackly  and  brown.  Some  of  the 
little,  still  puddles  were  filmed  with  what  was  almost,  but 
not  quite  ice.  A  sheen  of  frost  whitened  the  house  roofs 
and  silvered  each  separate  blade  of  grass  on  the  lawns. 
But  by  noon  the  sun,  rising  red  in  the  veil  of  smoke  that 
hung  low  in  the  snappy  air,  had  mellowed  the  atmosphere 
until  it  lay  on  the  cheek  like  a  caress.  No  breath  of  wind 
stirred.  Sounds  came  clearly  from  a  distance.  Long  V- 
shaped  flights  of  geese  swept  athwart  the  sky,  very  high 
up,  but  their  honking  came  faintly  to  the  ear.  And  yet, 
when  the  sun,  swollen  to  the  great  dimensions  of  the  rising 
moon,  dipped  blood-red  through  the  haze,  the  first  pre- 
monitory tingle  of  cold  warned  one  that  the  grateful 
warmth  of  the  day  had  been  but  an  illusion  of  a  season 
that  had  gone.  This  was  not  summer,  but,  in  the  quaint 
old  phrase,  Indian  summer,  and  its  end  would  be  as  though 
the  necromancer  had  waved  his  wand. 

To  Newmark,  sitting  at  his  desk,  reported  Captain  Floyd 
of  the  steam  barge  North  Star. 

"  All  loaded  by  noon,  sir,"  he  said. 

Newmark  looked  up  in  surprise. 


272  THE   RIVEKMAN 

"  Well,  why  do  you  tell  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  want  your  orders." 

"My  orders?  Why?" 

"This  is  a  bad  time  of  year,"  explained  Captain  Floyd, 
"  and  the  storm  signal's  up.  All  the  signs  are  right  for 
a  blow." 

Newmark  whirled  in  his  chair. 

"A  blow!"  he  cried.  "What  of  it?  You  don't  come  in 
every  time  it  blows,  do  you  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  the  lakes,  sir,  at  this  time  of  year," 
insisted  Captain  Floyd. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  sneered  Newmark. 

Captain  Floyd's  countenance  burned  a  dark  red. 

"  I  only  want  your  orders,"  was  all  he  said.  "  I  thought 
we  might  wait  to  see." 

"  Then  go,"  snapped  Newmark.  "  That  lumber  must  get 
to  the  market.  You  heard  Mr.  Orde's  orders  to  sail  as 
soon  as  you  were  loaded." 

Captain  Floyd  nodded  curtly  and  went  out  without  fur- 
ther comment. 

Newmark  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  The 
sun  shone  as  balmily  soft  as  ever.  English  sparrows  twit- 
tered and  fought  outside.  The  warm  smell  of  pine  shingles 
rose  from  the  street.  Only  close  down  to  the  horizon  lurked 
cold,  flat,  greasy-looking  clouds;  and  in  the  direction  of 
the  Government  flag-pole  he  caught  the  flash  of  red  from 
the  lazily  floating  signal.  He  was  little  weatherwise,  and 
he  shook  his  head  sceptically.  Nevertheless  it  was  a  chance, 
and  he  took  it,  as  he  had  taken  a  great  many  others. 


XXXIV 

TO  Carroll's  delight,  Orde  returned  unexpectedly 
from  the  woods  late  that  night.  He  was  so  busy 
these  days  that  she  welcomed  any  chance  to  see  him. 
Much  to  his  disappointment,  Bobby  had  been  taken  duck- 
hunting  by  his  old  friend,  Mr.  Kincaid.  Next  morning, 
however,  Orde  told  Carroll  his  stay  would  be  short  and 
that  his  day  would  be  occupied. 

"  I'd  take  old  Prince  and  get  some  air,"  he  advised. 
"  You're  too  much  indoors.  Get  some  friend  and  drive 
around.  It's  fine  and  blowy  out,  and  you'll  get  some  colour 
in  your  cheeks." 

After  breakfast  Carroll  accompanied  her  husband  to  the 
front  door.  When  they  opened  it  a  blast  of  air  rushed  in, 
whirling  some  dead  leaves  with  it. 

"  I  guess  the  fine  weather's  over,"  said  Orde,  looking  up 
at  the  sky. 

A  dull  lead  colour  had  succeeded  the  soft  gray  of  the 
preceding  balmy  days.  The  heavens  seemed  to  have  settled 
down  closer  to  the  earth.  A  rising  wind  whistled  through 
the  branches  of  the  big  maple  trees,  snatching  the  remain- 
ing leaves  in  handfuls  and  tossing  them  into  the  air.  The? 
tops  swayed  like  whips.  Whirlwinds  scurried  among  the 
piles  of  dead  leaves  on  the  lawns,  scattering  them,  chasing 
them  madly  around  and  around  in  circles. 

"B-r-r-rl"  shivered  Carroll.  "Winter's  coming." 

She  kept  herself  busy  about  the  house  all  the  morning; 
ate  her  lunch  in  solitude.  Outside,  the  fierce  wind,  rising  in 
a  crescendo  shriek,  howled  around  the  eaves.  The  day 


274  THE   RIVERMAN 

darkened,  but  no  rain  fell.  At  last  Carroll  resolved  to  tak« 
her  husband's  advice.  She  stopped  for  Mina  Heinzman, 
and  the  two  walked  around  to  the  stable,  where  the  men 
harnessed  old  Prince  into  the  phaeton. 

They  drove,  the  wind  at  their  backs,  across  the  draw- 
bridge, past  the  ship-yards,  and  out  beyond  the  mills  to 
the  Marsh  Road.  There,  on  either  side  the  causeway,  miles 
and  miles  of  cat-tails  and  reeds  bent  and  recovered  under 
the  snatches  of  the  wind.  Here  and  there  showed  glimpses 
of  ponds  or  little  inlets,  the  surface  of  the  water  ruffled 
and  dark  blue.  Occasionally  one  of  these  bayous  swung  in 
across  the  road.  Then  the  two  girls  could  see  plainly  the 
fan-like  cat's-paws  skittering  here  and  there  as  though 
panic-stricken  by  the  swooping,  invisible  monster  that  pur- 
sued them. 

Carroll  and  Mina  Heinzman  had  a  good  time.  The) 
liked  each  other  very  much,  and  always  saw  a  great  deai 
to  laugh  at  in  the  things  about  them  and  in  the  subjects 
about  which  they  talked.  When,  however,  they  turned 
toward  home,  they  were  forced  silent  by  the  mighty  power 
of  the  wind  against  them.  The  tears  ran  from  their  eyes 
as  though  they  were  crying;  they  had  to  lower  their  heads. 
Hardly  could  Carroll  command  vision  clear  enough  to  see 
the  road  along  which  she  was  driving.  This  was  really 
unnecessary,  for  Prince  was  buffeted  to  a  walk.  Thus  they 
crawled  along  until  they  reached  the  turn-bridge,  where 
the  right-angled  change  in  direction  gave  them  relief.  The 
river  was  full  of  choppy  waves,  considerable  in  size.  As 
they  crossed,  the  Sprite  darted  beneath  them,  lowering  her 
smokestack  as  she  went  under  the  bridge. 

They  entered  Main  Street,  where  was  a  great  banging 
and  clanging  of  swinging  signs  and  a  few  loose  shutters. 
All  the  sidewalk  displays  of  vegetables  and  other  goods 
had  been  taken  in,  and  the  doors,  customarily  wide  open, 
were  now  shut  fast.  This  alone  lent  to  the  street  quite 


THE   RIVERMAN  275 

a  deserted  air,  which  was  emphasised  by  the  fact  that 
actually  not  a  rig  of  any  sort  stood  at  the  curbs.  Up  the 
empty  roadway  whirled  one  after  the  other  clouds  of  dust 
hurried  by  the  wind. 

"I  wonder  where  all  the  farmers'  wagons  are?"  mar- 
velled the  practical  Mina.  "  Surely  they  would  not  stay 
home  Saturday  afternoon  just  for  this  wind ! " 

Opposite  Randall's  hardware  store  her  curiosity  quite 
mastered  her. 

"  Do  stop ! "  she  urged  Carroll.  "  I  want  to  run  in  and 
see  what's  the  matter." 

She  was  gone  but  a  moment,  and  returned,  her  eyes 
shining  with  excitement. 

"  Oh,  Carroll !  "  she  cried,  "  there  are  three  vessels  gone 
ashore  off  the  piers.  Everybody's  gone  to  see." 

"  Jump  in ! "  said  Carroll.  "  We'll  drive  out.  Perhaps 
they'll  get  out  the  life-saving  crew." 

They  drove  up  the  plank  road  over  the  sand-hill,  through 
the  beech  woods,  to  the  bluff  above  the  shore.  In  the  woods 
they  were  somewhat  sheltered  from  the  wind,  although 
even  there  the  crash  of  falling  branches  and  the  whirl 
of  twigs  and  dead  leaves  advertised  that  the  powers  of  the 
air  were  abroad;  but  when  they  topped  the  last  rise,  the 
unobstructed  blast  from  the  open  Lake  hit  them  square 
between  the  eyes. 

Probably  a  hundred  vehicles  of  all  descriptions  were 
hitched  to  trees  just  within  the  fringe  of  woods.  Carroll, 
however,  drove  straight  ahead  until  Prince  stood  at  the 
top  of  the  plank  road  that  led  down  to  the  bath  houses. 
Here  she  pulled  up. 

Carroll  saw  the  lake,  slate  blue  and  angry,  with  white- 
capped  billows  to  the  limit  of  vision.  Along  the  shore  were 
rows  and  rows  of  breakers,  leaping,  breaking,  and  gather- 
ing again,  until  they  were  lost  in  a  tumble  of  white  foam 
that  rushed  and  receded  on  the  sands.  These  did  not  look 


276  THE   RIVERMAN 

to  be  very  large  until  she  noticed  the  twin  piers  reaching 
out  from  the  river's  mouth.  Each  billow,  as  it  came  in, 
rose  sullenly  above  them,  broke  tempestuously  to  over- 
whelm the  entire  structure  of  their  ends,  and  ripped  in- 
shore along  their  lengths,  the  crest  submerging  as  it  ran 
every  foot  of  the  massive  structures.  The  piers  and  the 
light-houses  at  their  ends  looked  like  little  toys,  and  the 
compact  black  crowd  of  people  on  the  shore  below  were 
as  small  as  Bobby's  tin  soldiers. 

"  Look  there — out  farther !  "  pointed  Mina. 

Carroll  looked,  and  rose  to  her  feet  in  excitement. 

Three  little  toy  ships — or  so  they  seemed  compared  to 
the  mountains  of  water — lay  broadside-to,  just  inside  the 
farthest  line  of  breakers.  Two  were  sailing  schooners.  These 
had  been  thrown  on  their  beam  ends,  their  masts  pointing 
at  an  angle  toward  the  beach.  Each  wave,  as  it  reached, 
stirred  them  a  trifle,  then  broke  in  a  deluge  of  water  that 
for  a  moment  covered  their  hulls  completely  from  sight. 
With  a  mighty  suction  the  billow  drained  away,  carrying 
with  it  wreckage.  The  third  vessel  was  a  steam  barge.  She, 
too,  was  broadside  to  the  seas,  but  had  caught  in  some 
hole  in  the  bar  so  that  she  lay  far  down  by  the  head. 
The  shoreward  side  of  her  upper  works  had,  for  some 
freakish  reason,  given  away  first,  so  now  the  interior  of 
her  staterooms  and  saloons  was  exposed  to  view  as  in 
the  cross-section  of  a  model  ship.  Over  her,  too,  the  great 
waves  hurled  themselves,  each  carrying  away  its  spoil. 
To  Carroll  it  seemed  fantastically  as  though  the  barge 
were  made  of  sugar,  and  that  each  sea  melted  her  pre- 
cisely as  Bobby  loved  to  melt  the  lump  in  his  chocolate 
by  raising  and  lowering  it  in  a  spoon. 

And  the  queer  part  of  it  all  was  that  these  waves,  so 
mighty  in  their  effects,  appeared  to  the  woman  no  differ- 
ent from  those  she  had  often  watched  in  the  light  summer 
blows  that  for  a  few  hours  raise  the  "  white  caps  "  on  the 


THE    RIVERMAN  277 

lake.  They  came  in  from  the  open  in  the  same  swift  yet 
deliberate  ranks;  they  gathered  with  the  same  leisurely 
pauses;  they  broke  with  the  same  rush  and  roar.  They 
seemed  no  larger,  but  everything  else  had  been  struck 
small — the  tiny  ships,  the  toy  piers,  the  ant-like  swarm  of 
people  on  the  shore.  She  looked  on  it  as  a  spectacle.  It  had 
as  yet  no  human  significance. 

"  Poor  fellows !  "  cried  Mina. 

"What?  "asked  Carroll. 

"  Don't  you  see  them  ?  "  queried  the  other. 

Carroll  looked,  and  in  the  rigging  of  the  schooner  she 
made  out  a  number  of  black  objects. 

"  Are  those  men  ? — up  the  masts  ?  "  she  cried. 

She  set  Prince  in  motion  toward  the  beach. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bluff  the  plank  road  ran  out  into  the 
deep  sand.  Through  this  the  phaeton  made  its  way  heavily. 
The  fine  particles  were  blown  in  the  iir  fike  a  spray,  ming- 
ling with  the  spume  from  the  lake,  stinging  Carroll's  face 
like  so  many  needles.  Already  the  beach  was  strewn  with 
pieces  of  wreckage,  some  of  it  cast  high  above  the  wash, 
others  still  thrown  up  and  sucked  back  by  each  wave, 
others  again  rising  and  falling  in  the  billows.  This  wreck- 
age constituted  a  miscellaneous  jumble,  although  most  of  it 
was  lumber  from  the  deck-loads  of  the  vessels.  Inter- 
mingled with  the  split  and  broken  yellow  boards  were  bits 
of  carving  and  of  painted  wood.  Carroll  saw  one  piece  half 
buried  in  the  sand  which  bore  in  gilt  two  huge  letters,  A  R. 
A  little  farther,  bent  and  twisted,  projected  the  ornamental 
spear  which  had  pointed  the  way  before  the  steamer's  bow. 
Portions  of  the  usual  miscellaneous  freight  cargo  carried 
on  every  voyage  were  scattered  along  the  shore — boxes, 
barrels,  and  crates.  Five  or  six  men  had  rolled  a  whisky 
barrel  beyond  the  reach  of  the  water,  had  broached  it,  and 
now  were  drinking  in  turn  from  a  broken  and  dingy  frag- 
ment of  a  beer-schooner.  They  were  very  dirty;  their  hair 


278  THE    RIVERMAN 

had  fallen  over  their  eyes,  which  were  bloodshot;  the  ex- 
pression of  their  faces  was  imbecile.  As  the  phaeton  passed, 
they  hailed  its  occupants  in  thick  voices,  shouting  against  the 
wind  maudlin  invitations  to  drink. 

The  crowd  gathered  at  the  pier  comprised  fully  half  the 
population  of  Monrovia.  It  centred  about  the  life  saving 
crew,  whose  mortar  was  being  loaded.  A  stove-in  lifeboat 
mutely  attested  the  failure  of  other  efforts.  The  men 
worked  busily,  ramming  home  the  powder  sack,  placing  the 
projectile  with  the  light  line  attached,  attending  that  the 
reel  ran  freely.  Their  chief  watched  the  seas  and  winds 
through  his  glasses.  When  the  preparations  were  finished, 
he  adjusted  the  mortar,  and  pulled  the  string.  Carroll  had 
seen  this  done  in  practice.  Now,  with  the  recollection  of 
that  experience  in  mind,  she  was  astonished  at  the  feeble 
report  of  the  piece,  and  its  freedom  from  the  dense  white 
clouds  of  smoke  that  should  have  enveloped  it.  The  wind 
snatched  both  noise  and  vapour  away  almost  as  soon  as 
they  were  born.  The  dart  with  its  trailer  of  line  rose  on  a 
long  graceful  curve.  The  reel  sang.  Every  member  of  the 
crowd  unconsciously  leaned  forward  in  attention.  But  the 
resistance  of  the  wind  and  the  line  early  made  itself  felt. 
Slower  and  slower  hummed  the  reel.  There  came  a  time 
when  the  missile  seemed  to  hesitate,  then  fairly  to  stand  in 
equilibrium.  Finally,  in  an  increasingly  abrupt  curve,  it  de- 
scended into  the  sea.  By  a  good  three  hundred  yards  the 
shot  had  failed  to  carry  the  line  over  the  vessels. 

"  There's  Mr.  Bradford,"  said  Carroll,  waving  her  hand. 
"  I  wish  he'd  come  and  tell  us  something  about  it." 

The  banjo-playing  village  Brummell  saw  the  signal  and 
came,  his  face  grave. 

"  Couldn't  they  get  the  lifeboats  out  to  them  ?  "  asked 
Carroll  as  he  approached. 

"  You  see  that  one,"  said  Bradford,  pointing.  "  Well,  the 
Other's  in  kindling  wood  farther  up  the  beach." 


JHE   RIVERMAN  279 

"  Anybody  drowned  ?  "  asked  Mina  quickly. 

"  No,  we  got  'em  out.  Mr.  Cam's  shoulder  is  broken." 
He  glanced  down  at  himself  comically,  and  the  girls  for 
the  first  time  noticed  that  beneath  the  heavy  overcoat  his 
garments  were  dropping. 

"  But  surely  they'll  never  get  a  line  over  with  the  mor- 
tar!"  said  Carroll.  "  That  last  shot  fell  so  far  short! " 

"  They  know  it.  They've  shot  a  dozen  times.  Might  as 
well  do  something." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Mina,  "  that  they'd  shoot  from 
the  end  of  the  pier.  They'd  be  ever  so  much  nearer." 

"  Tried  it,"  replied  Bradford  succintly.  "  Nearly  lost  the 
whole  business." 

Nobody  said  anything  for  some  time,  but  all  looked 
helplessly  to  where  the  vessels — from  this  elevation  insig- 
nificant among  the  tumbling  waters — were  pounding  to 
pieces. 

At  this  moment  from  the  river  a  trail  of  black  smoke 
became  visible  over  the  point  of  sand-hill  that  ran  down  to 
the  pier.  A  smokestack  darted  into  view,  slowed  down,  and 
came  to  rest  well  inside  the  river-channel.  There  it  rose  and 
fell  regularly  under  the  influence  of  the  swell  that  swung 
in  from  the  lake.  The  crowd  uttered  a  cheer,  and  streamed 
in  the  direction  of  the  smokestack. 
.  "*  Come  and  see  what's  up,"  suggested  Bradford. 

He  hitched  Prince  to  a  log  sticking  up  at  an  angle  from 
the  sand,  and  led  the  way  to  the  pier. 

There  they  had  difficulty  in  getting  close  enough  to 
see;  but  Bradford,  preceding  the  two  women,  succeeded 
by  patience  and  diplomacy  in  forcing  a  way.  The  Sprite  was 
lying  close  under  the  pier,  the  top  of  her  pilot-house  just 
about  level  with  the  feet  of  the  people  watching  her.  She 
rose  and  fell  with  the  restless  waters.  Fat  rope-yarn 
bumpers  interposed  between  her  sides  and  the  piling.  The 
pilot-house  was  empty,  but  Harvey,  the  negro  engineer, 


280  THE   RIVERMAN 

leaned,  elbows  crossed  against  the  sill  of  his  little  square 
door,  smoking  his  pipe. 

"  I  wouldn't  go  out  there  for  a  million  dollars ! "  cried  a 
man  excitedly  to  Carroll  and  Bradford.  "  Nothing  on  earth 
could  live  in  that  sea!  Nothing!  I've  run  a  tug  myself  in 
my  time,  and  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about ! " 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Carroll. 

"  Haven't  you  heard !  "  cried  the  other,  turning  to  her. 
"Where  you  been?  This  is  one  of  Orde's  tugs,  and  she's 
going  to  try  to  get  a  line  to  them  vessels.  But  I 
wouldn't " 

Bradford  did  not  wait  for  him  to  finish.  He  turned 
abruptly,  and  with  an  air  of  authority  brushed  toward  the 
tug,  followed  closely  by  Carroll  and  Mina.  At  the  edge  of 
the  pier  was  the  tug's  captain,  Marsh,  listening  to  earnest 
expostulation  by  a  half-dozen  of  the  leading  men  of  the 
town,  among  whom  were  both  Newmark  and  Orde. 

As  the  three  came  within  earshot  Captain  Marsh  spit 
forth  the  stump  of  cigar  he  had  been  chewing. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he  crisply,  "  that  isn't  the  question. 
I  think  I  can  do  it;  and  I'm  entirely  willing  to  take  all  per- 
sonal risks.  The  thing  is  hazardous  and  it's  Mr.  Orde's  tug. 
It's  for  him  to  say  whether  he  wants  to  risk  her." 

"Good  Lord,  man,  what's  the  tug  in  a  case  like  this!" 
cried  Orde,  who  was  standing  near.  Carroll  looked  at  him 
proudly,  but  she  did  not  attempt  to  make  her  presence 
known. 

"  I  thought  so,"  replied  Captain  Marsh.  "  So  it's  settled. 
I'll  take  her  out,  if  I  can  get  a  crew.  Harvey,  step  up 
here!" 

The  engineer  slowly  hoisted  his  long  figure  through  the 
breast-high  doorway,  dragged  his  leg's  under  him,  and 
then  with  extraordinary  agility  swung  to  the  pier,  his  teeth 
shining  like  ivory  in  his  black  face. 

"Yas,  suh!"saidhe. 


THE    RIVERMAN  281 

"  Harvey,"  said  Captain  Marsh  briskly,  "  we're  going  to 
try  to  get  a  line  aboard  those  vessels  out  there.  It's  danger- 
ous. You  don't  have  to  go  if  you  don't  want  to.  Will  you 
go?" 

Harvey  removed  his  cap  and  scratched  his  wool.  The 
grin  faded  from  his  good-natured  countenance. 

"  You-all  goin',  suh  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course." 

"  I  reckon  I'll  done  haif  to  go,  too,"  said  Harvey  simply. 
Without  further  word  he  swung  lightly  back  to  the  uneasy 
craft  below  him,  and  began  to  toss  the  slabs  from  the  deck 
into  the  hold. 

"  I  want  a  man  with  me  at  the  wheel,  two  to  handle  the 
lines,  and  one  to  fire  for  Harvey,"  said  Captain  Marsh  to 
the  crowd  in  general. 

"  That's  our  job,"  announced  the  life-saving  captain. 

"  Well,  come  on  then.  No  use  in  delay,"  said  Captain 
Marsh. 

The  four  men  from  the  life-saving  service  dropped 
aboard.  The  five  thefc  went  over  the  tug  from  stem  to 
stern,  tossing  aside  all  movables,  and  lashing  tight  all  es- 
sentials. From  the  pilot-house  Captain  Marsh  distributed 
life  preservers.  Harvey  declined  his. 

"  Whaf-for  I  want  dat  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Lots  of  good  he 
gwine  do  me  down  here !  " 

Then  all  hatches  were  battened  down.  Captain  Marsh 
reached  up  to  shake  the  hand  which  Orde,  stooping,  offered 
him. 

"  I'll  try  to  bring  her  back  all  right,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  To  hell  with  the  tug !  "  cried  Orde,  impatient  at  this 
insistence  on  the  mere  property  aspect.  "  Bring  yourself 
back." 

Captain  Marsh  deliberately  lit  another  cigar  and  entered 
the  pilot-house  with  the  other  men. 

"  Cast  off!  "  he  pried;  and  the  silenf  crpwd  heard  clearly. 


282  THE    RIVERMAN 

the  single  sharp  bell  ringing  for  attention,  and  then  the 
"  j angler "  that  called  for  full  speed  ahead.  Awed,  they 
watched  the  tiny  sturdy  craft  move  out  into  the  stream  and 
point  to  the  fury  of  the  open  lake. 

"  Brave  chaps !  Brave  chaps ! "  said  Dr.  McMullen  to 
Carroll  as  they  turned  away.  The  physician  drew  his  tall 
slender  figure  to  its  height.  "  Brave  chaps,  every  one  of 
them.  But,  do  you  know,  to  my  mind,  the  bravest  of  them 
all  are  that  nigger — and  his  fireman — nailed  down  in  the 
hold  where  they  can't  see  nor  know  what's  going  on,  and 
if — if —  "  the  good  doctor  blew  his  nose  vigorously  five  or 
six  times — "  well,  it's  just  like  a  rat  in  a  hole."  He  shook 
his  head  vigorously  and  looked  out  to  sea.  "  I  read  last 
evening,  sir,"  said  he  to  Bradford,  "  in  a  blasted  fool  medi- 
cal journal  I  take,  that  the  race  is  degenerating.  Good 
God!" 

The  tug  had  rounded  the  end  of  the  pier.  The  first  of  her 
thousand  enemies,  sweeping  in  from  the  open,  had  struck 
her  fair.  A  great  sheet  of  white  water,  slanting  back  and 
up,  shot  with  terrific  impact  against  the  house  and  beyond. 
For  an  instant  the  little  craft  seemed  buried;  but  almost 
immediately  the  gleam  of  her  black  hull  showed  her  plung- 
ing forward  dauntlessly. 

*  That's  nothin' !  "  said  the  tug  captain  who  had  first 
spoken.  "  Wait  'til  she  gets  outside !  "  The  watchers  streamed 
down  from  the  pier  for  a  better  view.  Carroll  and  Miss 
Heinzman  followed.  They  saw  the  staunch  little  craft  drive 
into  three  big  seas,  each  of  which  appeared  to  bury  her 
completely,  save  for  her  upper  works.  She  managed,  how- 
ever, to  keep  her  headway. 

"  She  can  stand  that,  all  right,"  said  one  of  the  life-sav- 
ing crew  who  had  been  watching  her  critically.  "  The 
trouble  will  come  when  she  drops  down  to  the  vessels." 

In  spite  of  the  heavy  smashing  of  head-on  seas  the  Sprite 
held  her  course  straight  out. 


THE    RIVERMAN  283 

"  Where's  she  going,  anyway  ? "  marvelled  little  Mr. 
Smith,  the  stationer.  "  She's  away  beyond  the  wrecks 
already." 

"  Probably  Marsh  has  found  the  seas  heavier  than  he 
thought  and  is  afraid  to  turn  her  broadside,"  guessed  his 
companion. 

"Afraid,  hell!"  snorted  a  riverman  who  overheard. 

Nevertheless  the  Sprite  was  now  so  distant  that  the  loom 
of  the  great  seas  on  the  horizon  swallowed  her  from  view, 
save  when  she  rose  on  the  crest  of  some  mighty  billow. 

"  Well,  what  is  he  doing  'way  out  there  then  ? "  chal- 
lenged Mr.  Smith's  friend  with  some  asperity. 

"  Do'no,"  replied  the  riverman,  "  but  whatever  it  is,  it's 
all  right  as  long  as  Buck  Marsh  is  at  the  wheel." 

"  There,  she's  turned  now,"  Mr.  Smith  interposed. 

Beneath  the  trail  of  black  smoke  she  had  shifted  direction. 
And  then  with  startling  swiftness  the  Sprite  darted  out  of 
the  horizon  into  full  view.  For  the  first  time  the  spectators 
realised  the  size  and  weight  of  the  seas.  Not  even  the  sullen 
pounding  to  pieces  of  the  vessels  on  the  bar  had  so  impressed 
them  as  the  sight  of  the  tug  coasting  with  railroad  speed 
down  the  rush  of  a  comber  like  a  child's  toy-boat  in  the  surf. 
One  moment  the  whole  of  her  deck  was  visible  as  she  was 
borne  with  the  wave ;  the  next  her  bow  alone  showed  high  as 
the  back  suction  caught  her  and  dragged  her  from  the  crest 
into  the  hollow.  A  sea  rose  behind.  Nothing  of  the  tug 
was  to  be  seen.  It  seemed  that  no  power  or  skill  could  pre- 
vent her  feeling  overwhelmed.  Yet  somehow  always  she 
staggered  out  of  the  gulf  until  she  caught  the  force  of  the 
billow  and  was  again  cast  forward  like  a  chip. 

"  Maybe  they  ain't  catchin'  p'ticular  hell  at  that  wheel 
to  hold  her  from  yawing ! "  muttered  the  tug  captain  to 
his  neighbour,  who  happened  to  be  Mr.  Duncan,  the  min- 
ister. 

Almost  before  Carroll  had  time  to  see  that  the  little  craft 


284  THE   RIVElvMAN 

was  coming  in,  she  had  arrived  at  the  outer  line  of  breakers. 
Here  the  combers,  dragged  by  the  bar  underneath,  crested, 
curled  over,  and  fell  with  a  roar,  just  as  in  milder  weather 
the  surf  breaks  on  the  beach.  When  the  Sprite  rushed  at 
this  outer  line  of  white-water,  a  woman  in  the  crowd 
screamed. 

But  at  the  edge  of  destruction  the  Sprite  came  to  a  shud- 
dering stop.  Her  powerful  propellers  had  been  set  to  the 
reverse.  They  could  not  hold  her  against  the  forward 
fling  of  the  water,  but  what  she  lost  thus  she  regained 
on  the  seaward  slopes  of  the  waves  and  in  their  hollows. 
Thus  she  hovered  on  the  edge  of  the  breakers,  awaiting 
her  chance. 

As  long  as  the  seas  rolled  in  steadily,  and  nothing  broke, 
she  was  safe.  But  if  one  of  the  waves  should  happen  to 
crest  and  break,  as  many  of  them  did,  the  weight  of  water 
catching  the  tug  on  her  flat,  broad  stern  deck  would  in- 
dubitably bury  her.  The  situation  was  awful  in  its  extreme 
simplicity.  Would  Captain  Marsh  see  his  opportunity  before 
the  law  of  chances  would  bring  along  the  wave  that  would 
overwhelm  him  ? 

A  realisation  of  the  crisis  came  to  the  crowd  on  the  beach. 
At  once  the  terrible  strain  of  suspense  tugged  at  their 
souls.  Each  conducted  himself  according  to  his  nature.  The 
hardy  men  of  the  river  and  the  woods  set  their  teeth  until 
the  cheek  muscles  turned  white,  and  blasphemed  softly  and 
steadily.  Two  or  three  of  the  townsmen  walked  up  and 
down  the  space  of  a  dozen  feet.  One,  the  woman  who  had 
screamed,  prayed  aloud  in  short  hysterical  sentences. 

"  O  God !  Save  them,  O  Lord !  O  Lord !  " 

Orde  stood  on  top  of  a  half-buried  log,  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  his  entire  being  concentrated  on  the  manreuvre  being 
executed.  Only  Newmark  apparently  remained  as  calm  as 
ever,  leaning  against  an  upright  timber,  his  arms  folded, 
and  an  unlighted  cigar  as  usual  between  his  lips. 


THE    RIVERMAN  285 

Methodically  eveiy  few  moments  he  removed  his  eye- 
glasses and  wiped  the  lenses  free  of  spray. 

Suddenly,  without  warning,  occurred  one  of  those  inex- 
plicable lulls  that  interpos-e  often  amid  the  wildest  uproars. 
For  the  briefest  instant  other  sounds  than  the  roar  of  the 
wind  and  surf  were  permitted  the  multitude  on  the  beach. 
They  heard  the  grinding  of  timbers  from  the  stricken 
ships,  and  the  draining  away  of  waters.  And  distinctly  they 
heard  the  faint,  far  tinkle  of  the  jangler  calling  again  for 
"  full  speed  ahead." 

Between  two  waves  the  Sprite  darted  forward  directly  for 
the  nearest  of  the  wrecks.  Straight  as  an  arrow's  flight  she 
held  until  from  the  crowd  went  up  a  groan. 

"  She'll  collide !  "  some  one  put  it  into  words. 

But  at  the  latest  moment  the  tug  swerved,,  raced  past, 
and  turned  on  a  long  diagonal  across  the  end  of  the  bar 
toward  the  piers. 

Captain  Marsh  had  chosen  his  moment  with  exactitude. 
To  the  utmost  he  had  taken  advantage  of  the  brief  lull  of 
jumbled  seas  after  the  "  three  largest  waves  "  had  swept 
by.  Yet  in  shallow  water  and  with  the  strong  inshore  set, 
even  that  lull  was  all  too  short.  The  Sprite  was  staggered  by 
the  buffets  of  the  smaller  breakers ;  her  speed  was  checked, 
her  stern  was  dragged  around.  For  an  instant  it  seemed 
that  the  back  suction  would  hold  her  in  its  grip.  She  tore 
herself  from  the  grasp  of  the  current.  Enveloped  in  a  blind- 
ing hail  of  spray  she  struggled  desperately  to  extricate  her- 
self from  the  maelstrom  in  which  she  was  involved  before 
the  resumption  of  the  larger  seas  should  roll  her  over  and 
over  to  destruction. 

Already  these  larger  seas  were  racing  in  from  the  open. 
To  Carroll,  watching  breathless  and  wide-eyed  in  that 
strange  passive  and  receptive  state  peculiar  to  imaginative 
natures,  they  seemed  alive.  And  the  Sprite,  too,  appeared 
to  be,  not  a  fabric  and  a  mechanism  controlled  by  men, 


286  THE   RIVERMAN 

but  a  sentient  creature  struggling  gallantly  on  hei  own 
volition. 

Far  out  in  the  lake  against  the  tumbling  horizon  she  saw 
heave  up  for  a  second  the  shoulder  of  a  mighty  wave.  And 
instinctively  she  perceived  this  wave  as  a  deadly  enemy 
of  the  little  tug,  and  saw  it  bending  all  its  great  energies 
to  hurrying  in  on  time  to  catch  the  victim  before  it  could 
escape.  To  this  wave  she  gave  all  her  attention,  watching 
for  it  after  it  had  sunk  momentarily  below  its  fellows, 
recognising  it  instantly  as  it  rose  again.  The  spasms  of  dis- 
may and  relief  among  the  crowd  about  her  she  did  not  share 
at  all.  The  crises  they  indicated  did  not  exist  for  her.  Until 
the  wave  came  in,  Carroll  knew,  the  Sprite,  no  matter  how 
battered  and  tossed,  would  be  safe.  Her  whole  being  was 
concentrated  in  a  continually  shifting  calculation  of  the 
respective  distances  between  the  tug  and  the  piers,  the  tug 
and  the  relentlessly  advancing  wave. 

"  Oh,  go !  "  she  exhorted  the  Sprite  under  her  breath. 

Then  the  crowd,  too,  caught  with  its  slower  perceptions 
the  import  of  the  wave.  Carroll  felt  the  electric  thrill  of  ap- 
prehension shiver  through  it.  Huge  and  towering,  green 
and  flecked  with  foam  the  wave  came  on  now  calmly  and 
deliberately  as  though  sure.  The  Sprite  was  off  the  end  of 
the  pier  when  the  wave  lifted  her,  just  in  the  position  her 
enemy  would  have  selected  to  crush  her  life  out  against  the 
cribs.  Slowly  the  tug  rose  against  its  shoulder,  was  lifted 
onward,  poised;  and  then  with  a  swift  forward  thrust  the 
wave  broke,  smothering  the  pier  and  lighthouse  beneath 
tons  of  water. 

A  low,  agonised  wail  broke  from  the  crowd.  And  then — 
and  then — over  beyond  the  pier  down  which  the  wave, 
broken  and  spent  but  formidable  still,  was  ripping  its  way, 
they  saw  gliding  a  battered  black  stack  from  which  still 
poured  defiantly  clouds  of  gray  smoke. 

For  ten  seconds  the  spectatois  could  not  believe  their 


eyes.  They  had  distinctly  seen  the  Sprite  caught  between  a 
resistless  wall  of  water  and  the  pier;  where  she  should 
have  been  crushed  like  the  proverbial  egg-shell.  Yet  there 
she  was — or  her  ghost. 

Then  a  great  cheer  rose  up  against  the  wind.  The  crowd 
went  crazy.  Mere  acquaintances  hugged  each  other  and 
danced  around  and  around  through  the  heavy  sands.  Sev- 
eral women  had  hysterics.  The  riverman  next  to  Mr.  Dun- 
can opened  his  mouth  and  swore  so  picturesquely  that,  as 
he  afterward  told  his  chum,  "  I  must  Ve  been  plumb  in- 
spired for  the  occasion."  Yet  it  never  entered  Mr.  Duncan's 
ministerial  head  to  reprove  the  blasphemy.  Orde  jumped 
down  from  his  half-buried  log  and  clapped  his  hat  on  his 
head.  Newmark  did  not  alter  his  attitude  nor  his  expres- 
sion. 

The  Sprite  was  safe.  For  the  few  moments  before  she 
glided  the  length  of  the  long  pier  to  stiller  water  this  fact 
sufficed. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  got  the  line  aboard,"  speculated  the 
tug-boat  captain  at  last. 

The  crowd  surged  over  to  the  piers  again.  Below  them 
rose  and  fell  the  Sprite.  All  the  fancy  scroll-work  of  her 
upper  works,  the  cornice  of  her  deck  house,  the  light  rig- 
ging of  her  cabin  had  disappeared,  leaving  raw  and  splin- 
tered wood  to  mark  their  attachments.  The  tall  smokestack 
was  bent  awry,  but  its  supports  had  held,  which  was  for- 
tunate since  otherwise  the  fires  would  have  been  drowned 
out.  At  the  moment,  Captain  Marsh  was  bending  over  ex- 
amining a  bad  break  in  the  overhang — the  only  material 
damage  the  tug  had  sustained. 

At  sight  of  him  the  crowd  set  up  a  yell.  He  paid  nc 
attention.  One  of  the  life-saving  men  tossed  a  mooring  line 
ashore.  It  was  seized  by  a  dozen  men.  Then  for  the  first 
time  somebody  noticed  that  although  the  tug  had  come  to 
a  standstill,  her  screw  was  still  turning  slowly  over  and  Qyer, 


288  THE    RIVERMAN 

holding  her  against  the  erratic  strong  jerking  of  a  slender 
rope  that  ran  through  her  stern  chocks  and  into  the  water, 

"  He  got  it  aboard !  "  yelled  the  man,  pointing. 

Another  cheer  broke  out.  The  life-saving  crew  leaped 
to  the  deck.  They  were  immediately  followed  by  a  crowd 
of  enthusiasts  eager  to  congratulate  and  question.  But  Cap- 
iain  Marsh  would  have  none  of  them. 

"  Get  off  my  tug !  "  he  shouted.  "  Do  you  want  to  swamp 
her?  What  do  you  suppose  we  put  that  line  aboard  for? 
Fun  ?  Get  busy  and  use  it !  Rescue  that  crew  now !  " 

Abashed,  the  enthusiasts  scrambled  back.  The  life-saving 
crew  took  charge.  It  was  necessary  to  pass  the  line  around 
the  end  of  the  pier  and  back  to  the  beach.  This  was  a  dan- 
gerous job,  and  one  requiring  considerable  power  and  in- 
genuity, for  the  strain  on  the  line  imposed  by  the  waters 
was  terrific;  and  the  breaking  seas  rendered  work  on  the 
piers  extremely  hazardous.  However,  the  life-saving  captain 
took  charge  confidently  enough.  His  crew  began  to  strug- 
gle out  the  pier,  while  volunteers,  under  his  personal  di- 
rection, manipulated  the  reel. 

A  number  of  the  curious  lingered  about  the  Sprite. 
Marsh  and  Orde  were  in  consultation  over  the  smashed 
stern,  and  did  not  look  as  though  they  cared  to  be  dis- 
turbed. Harvey  leaned  out  his  little  square  door. 

"  Don'  know  nuffin  'bout  it,"  said  he,  "  'ceptin'  she  done 
rolled  'way  over  'bout  fob.  times.  Yass  she  did,  suh!  I 
tonow.  I  felt  her  doin'  it. 

"  No,"  he  answered  a  query.  "  I  wasn't  what  you-all 
would  call  scairt,  that  is,  not  really  scairt — jess  a  little 
ne'vous.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  feed  her  slabs  and  listen 
foh  my  bell.  You  see,  Cap'n  Ma'sh,  he  was  in  cha'ge." 

"  No,  sir,"  Captain  Marsh  was  saying  emphatically  to  his 
employer.  "  I  can't  figure  it  out  except  on  one  thing.  You 
see  it's  stove  from  underneath.  A  sea  would  have  smashed 
it  from  above." 


THE   RIVERMAN  289 

"  Perhaps  you  grounded  in  between  seas  out  there,"  sug*- 
gested  Orde. 

Marsh  smiled  grimly. 

"  I  reckon  I'd  have  known  it,"  said  he.  "  No,  sir !  It 
sounds  wild,  but  it's  the  only  possible  guess.  That  last  sea 
must  've  lifted  us  bodily  right  over  the  corner  of  the  pier." 

"  Well — maybe,"  assented  Orde  doubtfully. 

"  Sure  thing,"  repeated  Marsh  with  conviction. 

"  Well,  you'd  better  not  tell  'em  so  unless  you  want  to 
rank  in  with  Old  Man  Ananias,"  ended  Orde.  "  It  was  a 
good  job.  Pretty  dusty  out  there,  wasn't  it?'* 

"  Pretty  dusty,"  grinned  Marsh. 

They  turned  away  together  and  were  at  once  pounced 
on  by  Leopold  Lincoln  Bunn,  the  local  reporter,  a  callow 
youth  aflame  with  the  chance  for  a  big  story  of  more  than 
local  interest. 

"  Oh,  Captain  Marsh ! "  he  cried.  "  How  did  you  get 
around  the  pier?  It  looked  as  though  the  wave  had  you 
caught." 

Orde  glanced  at  his  companion  in  curiosity. 

"  On  roller  skates,"  replied  Marsh. 

Leopold  tittered  nervously. 

"  Could  you  tell  me  how  you  felt  when  you  were  out 
there  in  the  worst  of  it  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  hell !  "  said  Marsh  grumpily,  stalking  away. 

"  Don't  interview  for  a  cent,  does  he  ?  "  grinned  Orde. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Orde !  Perhaps  you " 

"  Don't  you  think  we'd  better  lend  a  hand  below  ?  "  sug- 
gested Orde,  pointing  to  the  beach. 

The  wild  and  picturesque  work  of  rescue  was  under  way. 
The  line  had  been  successfully  brought  to  the  left  of  the 
lighthouse.  To  it  had  been  attached  the  rope,  and  to  that 
the  heavy  cable.  These  the  crew  of  the  schooner  had  dragged 
out  and  made  fast  to  a  mast.  The  shore  end  passed  over 
a  tall  scissors.  When  the  cable  was  tightened  the  breeches 


290  THE   RIVERMAN 

buoy  was  put  into  commission,  and  before  long  the  first 
member  of  the  crew  was  hauled  ashore,  plunging  in  and  out 
of  the  waves  as  the  rope  tightened  or  slackened.  He  was  a 
flaxen-haired  Norwegian,  who  stamped  his  feet,  shook  his 
body  and  grinned  comically  at  those  about  him.  He  accepted 
with  equanimity  a  dozen  drinks  of  whisky  thrust  at  him 
from  all  sides,  swigged  a  mug  of  the  coffee  a  few  practical 
women  were  making  over  an  open  fire,  and  opposed  to 
Leopold  Lincoln  Bunn's  frantic  efforts  a  stolid  and  baffling 
density.  Of  none  of  these  attentions  did  he  seem  to  stand 
in  especial  need. 

The  crew  and  its  volunteers  worked  quickly.  When  the 
last  man  had  come  ashore,  the  captain  of  the  life-saving 
service  entered  the  breeches  buoy  and  caused  himself  to  be 
hauled  through  the  smother  to  the  wreck.  After  an  interval, 
a  signal  jerked  back.  The  buoy  was  pulled  in  empty  and 
the  surf  car  substituted.  In  it  were  piled  various  utensils  of 
equipment.  One  man  went  with  it,  and  several  more  on  its 
next  trip,  until  nearly  the  whole  crew  were  aboard  the 
wreck. 

Carroll  and  Mina  stayed  until  dusk  and  after,  watching 
the  long  heavy  labour  of  rescue.  Lines  had  to  be  rocketed 
from  the  schooner  to  the  other  vessels.  Then  by  their  means 
cable  communication  had  to  be  established  with  the  shore. 
After  this  it  was  really  a  matter  of  routine  to  run  the  crew 
to  the  beach,  though  cruel,  hard  work,  and  dangerous.  The 
wrecks  were  continually  swept  by  the  great  seas ;  and  at  any 
moment  the  tortured  fabrics  might  give  way,  might  dis- 
solve completely  in  the  elements  that  so  battered  them.  The 
women  making  the  hot  coffee  found  their  services  becoming 
valuable.  Big  fires  of  driftwood  were  ignited.  They  were 
useful  for  light  as  well  as  warmth. 

By  their  illumination  finally  Orde  discovered  the  two 
girls  standing,  and  paused  long  enough  in  his  own  heavjf 
labour  of  assistance  to  draw  Carroll  one  side. 


THE    RIVERMAN  291 

"You'd  better  go  home  now,  sweetheart,"  said  he. 
"  Bobby '11  be  waiting  for  you,  and  the  girls  may  be  here  in 
the  crov  d  somewhere.  There'll  be  nobodv  to  take  care  of 
him." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  assented.  "But  hasn't  it  been  exciting? 
Whose  vessels  were  they ;  do  you  know  ?  " 

Oi  de  glanced  at  1  .er  strangely. 

"  They  were  ours,"  said  he. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  catching  quickly  the  wrinkles  of 
his  brow  and  the  harassed  anxiety  in  his  eyes.  Impulsively 
she  pulled  him  down  to  her  and  kissed  him. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  said  she.  "  I  care  only  if  you  do." 

She  patted  his  great  shoulders  lightly  and  smiled  up  at 
him. 

"  Run,  help !  "  she  cried.  "  And  come  home  as  soon  as  you 
can.  I'll  have  something  nice  and  hot  all  ready  for  you." 

She  turned  away,  the  smile  still  on  her  lips ;  but  as  soon 
as  she  was  out  of  sight,  her  face  fell  grave. 

"  Come,  Mina ! "  she  said  to  the  younger  girl.  "  Time  to 
go." 

They  toiled  through  the  heavy  sand  to  where,  hours  ago, 
they  had  left  Prince.  That  faithful  animal  dozed  in  his 
tracks  and  awoke  reluctantly. 

Carroll  looked  back.  The  fires  leaped  red  and  yellow. 
Against  them  were  the  silhouettes  of  people,  and  in  the 
farther  circle  of  their  illumination  were  more  people  cast 
in  bronze  that  flickered  red.  In  contrast  to  their  glow  the 
night  was  very  dark.  Only  from  the  lake  there  disengaged 
a  faint  gray  light  where  the  waters  broke.  The  strength  of 
the  failing  wind  still  lifted  the  liner  particles  of  sand.  The 
organ  of  the  pounding  surf  filled  the  night  with  the  gran- 
deur of  its  music. 


XXXV 

ORDE  mounted  the  office  stairs  next  day  with  a 
very  heavy  step.  The  loss  of  the  North  Star  and 
of  the  two  schooners  meant  a  great  deal  to  him 
at  that  time. 

"  It  kicks  us  into  somewhat  of  a  hole,"  he  grumbled  to 
Newmark. 

"  A  loss  is  never  pleasant,"  replied  the  latter,  "  and  it 
puts  us  out  of  the  carrying  business  for  awhile.  But  we're 
insured." 

"  I  can't  understand  why  Floyd  started,"  said  Orde.  "  He 
ought  to  know  better  than  to  face  sure  prospects  of  a  fall 
blow.  I'll  tan  his  soul  for  that,  all  right ! " 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  partly  responsible  for  his  going,"  put 
in  Newmark. 

"You!  "cried  Orde. 

"  Yes.  You  see  that  Smith  &  Mabley  shipment  was  im- 
portant enough  to  strain  a  point  for — and  it's  only  twenty- 
four  hours  or  so — and  it  certainly  didn't  look  to  see  me  as 
if  it  were  going  to  blow  very  soon.  Poor  Floyd  feels  bad 
enough.  He's  about  sick." 

Orde  for  the  first  time  began  to  appreciate  the  pressure 
of  his  circumstances.  The  loss  on  the  cargo  of  "  uppers  " 
reached  about  8,000,000  ff  it;  which  represented  $20,000  in 
money.  As  for  the  North  Star  and  her  consorts,  save  for 
the  insurance,  they  were  simply  eliminated.  They  had  rep- 
resented property.  Now  they  were  gone.  The  loss  of  $60,000 
or  so  on  them,  however,  did  not  mean  a  diminution  of  the 
company's  present  cash  resources  to  that  amount;  and  50 


THE    RIVERMAN  293 

did  not  immediately  affect  Orde's  calculations  as  to  the 
payment  of  the  notes  which  were  now  soon  to  come  due. 

At  this  time  the  woods  work  increasingly  demanded  his 
attention.  He  disappeared  for  a  week,  his  organising  abili- 
ties claimed  for  the  distribution  of  the  road  crews.  When 
he  returned  to  the  office,  Newmark,  with  an  air  of  small 
triumph,  showed  him  contracts  for  the  construction  of  three 
new  vessels. 

"  I  get  them  for  $55,000,"  said  he,  "  with  $30,000  of  it 
on  long  time." 

"  Without  consulting  me !  "  cried  Orde. 

Newmark  explained  carefully  that  the  action,  seemingly 
so  abrupt,  had  really  been  taking  advantage  of  a  lucky  op- 
portunity. 

"  Otherwise,"  he  finished,  "  we  shouldn't  have  been  able 
to  get  the  job  done  for  another  year,  at  least.  If  that  big 
Cronin  contract  goes  through — well,  you  know  what  that 
would  mean  in  the  shipyards — nobody  would  get  even  a 
look-in.  And  McLeod  is  willing,  in  the  meantime,  to  give 
us  a  price  to  keep  his  men  busy.  So  you  see  I  had  to  close 
at  once.  You  can  see  what  a  short  chance  it  was." 

"  It's  a  good  chance,  all  right,"  admitted  Orde ;  "  but — 
why — that  is,  I  thought  perhaps  we'd  job  our  own  freighting 
for  awhile — it  never  occurred  to  me  we'd  build  any  more 
vessels  until  we'd  recovered  a  little." 

"  Recovered,"  Newmark  repeated  coldly.  "  I  don't  see 
what"  recovered  '  has  to  do  with  it.  If  the  mill  burned  down, 
we'd  rebuild,  wouldn't  we  ?  Even  if  we  were  embarrassed — 
which  we're  not — we'd  hardly  care  to  acknowledge  pub- 
licly that  we  couldn't  keep  up  our  equipment.  And  as  we're 
making  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  a  year  out  of  our  freight- 
ing, it  seems  to  me  too  good  a  business  to  let  slip  into  other 
hands." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  agreed  Orde,  a  trifle  helplessly. 

**  Therefore  I  had  to  act  without  you,"  Newmark  fin- 


294  THE   RIVERMAN 

ished.  "  I  knew  you'd  agree.  That's  right :  isn't  it  ?  "  he 
insisted. 

"  Yes,  that's  right,"  agreed  Orde  drearily. 

"  You'll  find  copies  of  the  contract  on  your  desk,"  New- 
mark  closed  the  matter.  "  And  there's  the  tax  lists.  I  wish 
you'd  run  them  over." 

"Joe,"  replied  Orde,  "  I— I  don't  think  I'll  stay  down 
town  this  morning.  I " 

Newmark  glanced  up  keenly. 

"  You  don't  look  a  bit  well,"  said  he ;  "  kind  of  pale  around 
the  gills.  Bilious.  Don't  believe  that  camp  grub  quite  agrees 
with  you  for  a  steady  diet." 

"  Yes,  that  must  be  it,"  assented  Orde. 

He  closed  his  desk  and  went  out.  Newmark  turned  back 
to  his  papers.  His  face  was  expressionless.  From  an  inner 
pocket  he  produced  a  cigar  which  he  thrust  between  his  teeth. 
The  corners  of  his  mouth  slowly  curved  in  a  grim  smile. 

Orde  did  not  go  home.  Instead,  he  walked  down  Main 
Street  to  the  docks  where  he  jumped  into  a  rowboat  lying 
in  a  slip,  and  with  a  few  rapid  strokes  shot  out  on  the 
stream.  In  his  younger  days  he  had  belonged  to  a  boat 
club,  and  had  rowed  in  the  "  four."  He  still  loved  the  oar, 
and  though  his  racing  days  were  past,  he  maintained  a  clean- 
lined,  rather  unstable  little  craft  which  it  was  his  delight  to 
propel  rapidly  with  long  spoon-oars  whenever  he  needed 
exercise.  To-day,  however,  he  was  content  to  drift. 

The  morning  was  still  and  golden.  The  crispness  of 
late  fall  had  infused  a  wine  into  the  air.  The  sky  was 
a  soft,  blue-gray;  the  sand-hills  were  a  dazzling  yellow. 
Orde  did  not  try  to  think;  he  merely  faced  the  situation, 
staring  it  in  the  'face  until  it  should  shrink  to  its  true 
significance. 

One  thing  he  felt  distinctly ;  yet  could  not  without  a  strug- 
gle bring  himself  to  see.  The  California  lands  must  be 
mortgaged.  If  he  could  raise  a  reasonable  sum  of  money  on 


THE   RIVERMAN  295 

them,  he  would  still  be  perfectly  able  to  meet  his  notes. 
He  hated  fiercely  to  raise  that  money. 

It  was  entirely  a  matter  of  sentiment.  Orde  realised  the 
fact  clearly,  and  browbeat  his  other  self  with  a  savage  con- 
tempt. Nevertheless  his  dream  had  been  to  keep  the  western 
timber  free  and  unencumbered — for  Bobby.  Dreams  are 
harder  to  give  up  than  realities. 

He  fell  into  the  deepest  reflections  which  were  broken 
only  when  the  pounding  of  surf  warned  him  he  had  drifted 
almost  to  the  open  lake.  After  all,  there  was  no  essential 
difference  between  owing  money  to  a  man  in  Michigan 
and  to  a  man  in  California.  That  was  the  net  result  of  his 
struggle. 

"  When  the  time  comes,  we'll  just  borrow  that  money  on 
a  long-time  mortgage,  like  sensible  people,"  he  said  aloud, 
"  and  quit  this  everlasting  scrabbling."  N 

Back  to  town  he  pulled  with  long  vigorous  strokec  skit- 
tering his  feathered  spoon-oars  lightly  over  the  tops  of  the 
wavelets.  At  the  slip  he  made  fast  the  boat,  and  a  few  min- 
utes later  reentered  the  office,  his  step  springy,  his  face 
glowing.  Newmark  glanced  up. 

"  Hullo!  "  said  he.  "  Back  again?  You  look  better." 

"  Exercise,"  said  Orde,  in  his  hearty  manner.  "  Exercise, 
old  boy !  You  ought  to  try  it.  Greatest  thing  in  the  *orld. 
Just  took  a  row  to  the  end  of  the  piers  and  back,  and  I'm 
as  fit  as  a  fiddle !  " 


XXXVI 

ORDE  immediately  set  into  motion  the  machinery  of 
banking  to  borrow  on  the  California  timber.  Tay- 
lor took  charge  of  this,  as  the  only  man  in  Mon- 
rovia who  had  Orde's  confidence.  At  the  end  of  a  necessary 
delay  Orde  received  notice  that  the  West  had  been  heard 
from.  He  stepped  across  the  hall  to  the  lawyer's  office. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  he,  "  glad  we  managed  to  push  it 
through  with  so  little  trouble." 

Taylor  arose,  shut  carefully  the  door  into  his  outer  office, 
walked  to  the  window,  looked  contemplatively  out  upon 
the  hotel  backyard,  and  returned  to  his  desk. 

"  But  there  is  trouble,"  said  he  curtly. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  The  banks  refuse  the  loan." 

Orde  stared  at  him  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  Refuse !  "  he  echoed. 

"  Absolutely." 

"  What  grounds  can  they  possibly  have  for  that  ?  " 

"  I  can't  make  out  exactly  from  these  advices.  It's  some- 
thing about  the  title." 

"  But  I  thought  you  went  over  the  title." 

"  I  did,"  stated  Taylor  emphatically ;  "  and  I'll  stake  my 
reputation  as  a  lawyer  that  everything  is  straight  and  clear 
from  the  Land  Office  itself.  I've  wired  for  an  explanation ; 
and  we  ought  surely  to  know  something  definite  by  to- 
morrow." 

With  this  uncertainty  Orde  was  forced  to  be  content.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  business  career  a  real  anxiety  gnawed 


THE   RIVERMAN  297 

at  his  vitals.  He  had  been  in  many  tight  places ;  but  somehow 
heretofore  success  or  failure  had  seemed  to  him  about  im- 
material, like  points  gained  or  conceded  in  the  game ;  a  fresh 
start  was  always  so  easy,  and  what  had  been  already  won 
as  yet  unreal.  Now  the  game  itself  was  at  issue.  Property, 
reputation,  and  the  family's  future  were  at  stake.  When  the 
three  had  lived  in  the  tiny  house  by  the  church,  it  had 
seemed  that  no  adversity  could  touch  them.  But  now  that 
long  use  had  accustomed  them  to  larger  quarters,  servants, 
luxuries,  Orde  could  not  conceive  the  possibility  of  Carroll's 
ever  returning  to  that  simplest  existence.  Carroll  could  have 
told  him  otherwise;  but  of  course  he  did  not  as  yet  bring 
the  possibility  before  her.  She  had  economised  closely,  these 
last  few  years.  Orde  was  proud  of  her.  He  was  also  fiercely 
resentful  that  his  own  foolishness,  or  untoward  circum- 
stances, or  a  combination  of  both  should  jeopardise  her 
future.  Therefore  he  awaited  further  news  with  the  greatest 
impatience. 

The  message  came  the  following  day,  as  Taylor  had  pre- 
dicted. Taylor  handed  it  to  him  without  comment. 

"  Land  Office  under  investigation,"  Orde  read.  "  Fraudu- 
lent entries  suspected.  All  titles  clouded  until  decision  is 
reached." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  that  means  ?  "  asked  Orde,  al- 
*hough  he  knew  well  enough. 

Taylor  glanced  up  at  his  dull  eyes  with  commisera- 
tion. 

"  They  simply  won't  lend  good  money  on  an  uncertainty," 
said  he. 

"  Frank,"  said  Orde,  rousing  himself  with  an  effort,  "  I've 
got  to  be  here.  I  couldn't  get  away  this  winter  if  my  life 
depended  on  it.  And  I  won't  even  have  time  to  pay  much 
attention  to  it  from  here.  I  want  you  to  go  to  California 
and  look  after  those  interests  for  me.  Never  mind  your  prac- 
tice, man,"  as  Taylor  tried  to  interrupt  him.  "  Make  what 


298  THE    RIVERMAN 

arrangements  you  please;  but  go.  It'll  be  like  a  sort  of 
vacation  to  you.  You  need  one.  And  I'll  make  it  worth  your 
while.  Take  Clara  with  you.  She'll  like  California.  Now 
don't  say  no.  It's  important.  Straighten  it  out  as  quick  as 
you  can :  and  the  minute  it  is  straight  borrow  that  money  on 
it,  and  send  it  on  p.  d.  q." 

Taylor  thoughtfully  tapped  his  palm  with  the  edge  of  his 
eye-glasses. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Good !  "  cried  Orde,  rising  and  holding  out  his  hand. 

He  descended  the  dark  stairs  to  the  street,  where  he 
turned  down  toward  the  river.  There  he  sat  on  a  pile  for 
nearly  an  hour,  quite  oblivious  to  the  keen  wind  of  latter 
November  which  swept  up  over  the  scum  ice  from  the  Lake. 
At  length  he  hopped  down  and  made  his  way  to  the  office 
of  the  Welton  Lumber  Co. 

"  Look  here,  Welton,"  he  demanded  abruptly  when  he 
had  reached  that  operator's  private  office,  "  how  much  of 
a  cut  are  you  going  to  make  this  year  ?  " 

"About  twenty  million,"  replied  Welton.  "Why?" 

"  Just  figuring  on  the  drive,"  said  Orde,  nodding  a  fare- 
well. 

He  had  the  team  harnessed,  and,  assuming  his  buffalo-fur 
coat,  drove  to  the  offices  of  all  the  men  owning  timber  up 
and  down  the  river.  When  he  had  collected  his  statistics, 
he  returned  to  his  desk,  where  he  filled  the  backs  of  several 
envelopes  with  his  characteristically  minute  figures.  At  the 
close  of  his  calculations  he  nodded  his  head  vigorously 
several  times. 

"  Joe,"  he  called  across  to  his  partner,  "  I'm  going  to  cut 
that  whole  forty  million  we  have  left." 

Newmark  did  not  turn.  After  a  moment  his  dry  expres- 
sionless voice  came  back. 

"  I  thought  that  we  figured  that  as  a  two-years' 
job." 


THE    RIVERMAN  299 

"  We  did,  but  I'm  going  to  clean  up  the  whole  thins:  this 
year." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  do  it  ?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  replied  Orde.  Then  under  his  breath,  and 
quite  to  himself,  he  added :  "  I've  got  to !  " 


XXXVII 

THE  duel  had  now  come  to  grapples.  Orde  was  fight- 
ing for  his  very  life.  The  notes  given  by  New- 
mark  &  Orde  would  come  due  by  the  beginning 
of  the  following  summer.  Before  that  time  Orde  must  be 
able  to  meet  them  personally,  or,  as  by  the  agreement  with 
Newmark,  his  stock  in  the  Boom  Company  would  be  turned 
in  to  the  firm.  This  would,  of  course,  spell  nearly  a  total 
loss  of  it,  as  far  as  Orde  was  concerned. 

The  chief  anxiety  under  which  the  riverman  laboured, 
however,  was  the  imminent  prospect  of  losing  under  the 
mortgage  all  the  Northern  Peninsula  timber.  He  had  thought 
that  the  firm  would  be  able  to  step  in  for  its  redemption, 
even  if  he  personally  found  himself  unable  to  meet  the  ob- 
ligation. Three  hundred  million  feet  would  seem  to  be  too 
important  a  matter  to  let  go  under  so  small  a  mortgage. 
Now  as  the  time  approached,  he  realised  that  if  he  could 
not  pay  the  notes,  the  firm  would  certainly  be  unable  to  do 
so.  What  with  the  second  mortgage,  due  two  years  later,  and 
to  be  met  by  Newmark ;  with  the  outstanding  obligations ; 
with  the  new  enterprise  of  the  vessels  ordered  from  Dun- 
can McLeod,  Newmark  &  Orde  would  be  unable  to  raise 
anything  like  the  necessary  amount.  To  his  personal  anx- 
ieties Orde  added  a  deep  and  bitter  self-reproach  at  having 
involved  his  partner  in  what  amounted  to  a  total  loss. 

Spurred  doubly  by  these  considerations,  then,  he  fell  upon 
the  woods  work  with  unparalleled  ferocity.  A  cut  and  sale 
of  the  forty  million  feet  remaining  of  the  firm's  up-river 
holdings,  together  with  the  tolls  to  be  collected  for  driving- 


THE    RIVERMAN  301 

the  river  that  spring  would,  if  everything  went  right  and 
no  change  in  the  situation  took  place,  bring  Orde  through 
the  venture  almost  literally  by  "  the  skin  of  his  teeth."  To 
cut  forty  million  feet,  even  in  these  latter  days  of  improve- 
ments then  unknown,  would  be  a  task  to  strain  to  the  utmost 
every  resource  of  energy,  pluck,  equipment  and  organisa- 
tion. In  1 880-8 1  the  operators  on  the  river  laughed  good- 
humouredly  over  an  evident  madness. 

Nevertheless  Orde  accomplished  the  task.  To  be  sure  he 
was  largely  helped  by  a  favourable  winter.  The  cold 
weather  came  early  and  continued  late.  Freezing  preceded 
the  snow,  which  was  deep  enough  for  good  travoying  and 
to  assure  abundant  freshet  water  in  the  spring,  but  not  too 
deep  to  interfere  with  the  work.  Orde  increased  his  woods 
force;  and,  contrary  to  his  custom,  he  drove  them  merci- 
lessly. He  was  that  winter  his  own  walking-boss,  and  lived 
constantly  in  the  woods.  The  Rough  Red  had  charge  of  the 
banking,  where  his  aggressive,  brutal  personality  kept  the 
rollways  free  from  congestion.  For  congestion  there  means 
delay  in  unloading  the  sleighs ;  and  that  in  turn  means  a  drag 
in  the  woods  work  near  the  skidways  at  the  other  end  of 
the  line.  Tom  North  and  Tim  Nolan  and  Johnny  Sims  and 
Jim  Denning  were  foremen  back  in  the  forest.  Every  one  had 
an  idea,  more  or  less  vague,  that  the  Old  Fellow  had  his  back 
to  the  wall.  Late  into  the  night  the  rude  torches,  made  quite 
simply  from  brown  stone  jugs  full  of  oil  and  with  wicks  in 
their  necks,  cast  their  flickering  glare  over  the  ice  of  the 
haul-roads.  And  though  generally  in  that  part  of  Michigan 
the  thaws  begin  by  the  first  or  second  week  in  March,  this 
year  zero  weather  continued  even  to  the  eighth  of  April. 
When  the  drive  started,  far  up  toward  headwaters,  the  cut 
was  banked  for  miles  along  the  stream,  forty  million  feet  of  it 
to  the  last  timber. 

The  strain  over,  Orde  slept  the  clock  around  and  awoke 
to  the  further  but  familiar  task  of  driving  the  river.  He  was 


302  THE   RIVERMAN 

very  tired ;  but  his  spirit  was  at  peace.  As  always  after  the 
tvent,  he  looked  back  on  his  anxieties  with  a  faint  amuse- 
ment over  their  futility. 

From  Taylor  he  had  several  communications.  The  lawyer 
confessed  himself  baffled  as  to  the  purpose  and  basis  of  the 
Land  Office  investigation.  The  whole  affair  appeared  to  be 
tangled  in  a  maze  of  technicalities  and  a  snarl  of  red-tape 
which  it  would  take  some  time  to  unravel.  In  the  meantime 
Taylor  was  enjoying  himself;  and  was  almost  extravagant 
in  his  delight  over  the  climate  and  attractions  of  Southern 
California. 

Orde  did  not  much  care  for  this  delay.  He  saw  his  way 
clear  to  meeting  his  obligations  without  the  necessity  of 
hypothecating  the  California  timber;  and  was  the  better 
pleased  for  it.  With  the  break-up  of  spring  he  started  con- 
fidently with  the  largest  drive  in  the  history  of  the  river,  a 
matter  of  over  two  hundred  million  feet. 

This  tremendous  mass  of  timber  moved  practically  in 
three  sections.  The  first,  and  smallest,  comprised  probably 
thirty  millions.  It  started  from  the  lowermost  rollways  on 
the  river,  drove  rapidly  through  the  more  unobstructed 
reaches,  and  was  early  pocketed  above  Monrovia  in  the 
Company's  distributing  booms.  The  second  and  largest  sec- 
tion of  a  hundred  million  came  from  the  main  river  and 
its  largest  tributaries.  It  too  made  a  safe  drive ;  and  was 
brought  to  rest  in  the  main  booms  and  in  a  series  of  tem- 
porary or  emergency  booms  built  along  the  right  bank  and 
upstream  from  the  main  works.  The  third  section  contain- 
ing a  remainder  of  about  seventy  million  had  by  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  June  reached  the  slack  water  above  the  city  of 
Redding. 


XXXVIII 

THE  morning  of  June  twenty-sixth  dawned   clear. 
Orde  was  early  on  the  road  before  the  heat  of  the 
day.   He   drove  his  buckboard    rapidly   over  the 
twelve  miles  that  separated  his  home  from  the  distributing 
booms,  for  he  wanted  at  once  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the  first 
sun  and  to  arrive  at  the  commencement  of  the  day's  work. 
After  a  glance  at  the  river,  he  entered  the  tiny  office  and  set 
about  the  examination  of  the  tally  sheets  left  by  the  foreman, 
While  he  was  engaged  in  this  checking,  the  foreman,  Tom 
North,  entered. 

"  The  river's  rising  a  little,"  he  remarked  conversationally 
as  he  reached  for  the  second  set  of  tally  boards. 

"  You're  crazy,"  muttered  Orde,  without  looking  up.  "  It'& 
clear  as  a  bell ;  and  there  have  been  no  rains  reported  from 
anywhere." 

"  It's  rising  a  little,  just  the  same,"  insisted  North,  going 
out. 

An  hour  later  Orde,  having  finished  his  clerical  work, 
walked  out  over  the  booms.  The  water  certainly  had  risen ; 
and  considerably  at  that.  A  decided  current  sucked  through 
the  interstices  in  the  piling.  The  penned  logs  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  rising !  "  said  Orde  to  himself,  as 
he  watched  the  slowly  moving  water.  "  I  wonder  what's  up. 
It  can't  be  merely  those  rains  three  days  ago." 

He  called  one  of  the  younger  boys  to  him,  Jimmy  Powers 
by  name. 

"  Here,  Jimmy,"  said  he,  "  mark  one  of.  these  piles  and 
keep  track  of  how  fast  the  water  rises." 

3°3 


304  THE   RIVERMAN 

For  some  time  the  river  remained  stationary,  then  re- 
sumed its  slow  increase.  Orde  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  like  June  floods,"  he  told  Tom  North.  "  A  fellow 
can  understand  an  ordinary  spring  freshet,  and  knows  about 
how  far  it  will  go;  but  these  summer  floods  are  so  con- 
founded mysterious.  I  can't  figure  out  what's  struck  the  old 
stream,  unless  they're  having  almighty  heavy  rains  up  near 
headwaters."  .. 

By  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Jimmy  Powers  reported 
a  rise  since  morning  of  six  inches.  The  current  had  pro- 
portionately increased  in  power. 

"  Tom,"  said  Orde  to  the  old  riverman,  "  I'm  going  to 
send  Marsh  down  for  the  pile-drivers  and  some  cable.  The 
barge  company  has  some  fifteen  inch  manilla." 

North  laughed. 

"  What  in  blazes  do  you  expect  to  do  with  that  ?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  We  may  need  them,"  Orde  stated  with  conviction. 
"  Everything's  safe  enough  now ;  and  probably  will  continue 
so;  but  I  can't  afford  to  take  chances.  If  those  logs  ever 
break  through  they'll  go  on  out  to  Lake  Michigan  and  there 
they  wouldn't  be  worth  the  salvage." 

Tom  North  stared  at  his  principal  in  surprise. 

"  That's  a  mighty  long  chance,"  he  commented.  "  Never 
knew  you  to  come  so  near  croaking  before,  Jack." 

"If  this  drive  goes  out,  it  surely  busts  me,"  replied  Orde, 
"  and  I'm  not  taking  even  long  chances." 

Captain  Marsh,  returning  with  the  Sprite,  brought  an 
evening  paper  and  news  from  the  telegraph  offices.  A  cloud- 
burst in  the  China  Creek  district  followed  by  continued 
heavy  rains  was  responsible  for  the  increased  water.  The 
papers  mentioned  this  only  incidentally,  and  in  explanation. 
Their  columns  were  filled  with  an  account  of  the  big  log 
jam  that  had  formed  above  the  iron  railroad  bridge.  The 
planing  mill's  booms  had  given  way  under  pressure  and  the 


THE   RIVERMAN  305 

contents  had  piled  down  stream  against  the  buttresses.  Be- 
fore steps  could  be  taken  to  clear  the  way,  the  head  of  the 
drive,  hurried  by  the  excess  water,  had  piled  in  on  top.  Im- 
mediately a  jam  formed,  increasing  in  weight  each  moment, 
until  practically  the  entire  third  section  had  piled  up  back 
of  the  bridge. 

The  papers  occupied  themselves  with  the  picturesque  side 
of  the  affair.  None  expressed  any  anxiety  as  to  the  bridge. 
It  was  a  new  structure,  each  of  whose  bents  weighed  over  a 
hundred  tons.  A  fall  of  a  few  inches  only  would  suffice  to 
lock  the  jam  solidly,  thus  relieving  whatever  pressure  the 
mass  exerted  against  the  iron  bridge.  That  the  water  would 
shortly  go  down  was  of  course  inevitable  at  this  time  of 
year.  It  would  be  a  big  jam  for  the  rivermen  to  break, 
however. 

"  Do  you  think  you'll  go  up  there  ?  "  asked  North. 

Orde  shook  his  head. 

"  They're  in  a  nice  pickle,"  he  acknowledged ;  "  but  No- 
lan's in  charge  and  will  do  his  best.  I  think  we  may  have 
troubles  of  our  own  right  here  at  home." 

He  slept  that  night  at  the  booms.  The  water,  contrary 
to  all  expectation,  rose  steadily.  By  morning  it  had  crept  so 
far  up  the  piles  that  there  began  to  be  danger  that  it  would 
overflow  their  tops.  In  that  case,  of  course,  the  logs  in  the 
booms  would  also  run  out. 

"  Guess  it's  time  we  did  a  little  work,"  remarked  Orde. 

He  set  a  crew  of  men  to  raising  the  height  of  the  piling 
by  tying  logs  firmly  to  the  bolted  timbers  atop.  This  would 
take  care  of  an  extra  two  feet  of  water ;  a  two  feet  beyond 
all  previous  records.  Another  crew  stretched  the  fifteen 
inch  manilla  cables  across  the  field  of  logs  in  order  to  segre- 
gate them  into  several  units  of  mass,  and  so  prevent  them 
from  piling  up  at  the  down-stream  end  of  the  enclosure. 
The  pile-driver  began  to  drop  its  hammer  at  spots  of  weak- 
ness. In  spite  of  the  accelerated  current  and  the  increased 


306  THE   RIVERMAN 

volume  of  the  river,  everything  was  soon  shipshape  and 
safe. 

"  We're  all  right  now,"  said  Orde.  "  The  only  thing 
I'm  a  little  uneasy  about  is  those  confounded  temporary 
booms  upstream.  Still  they're  all  right  unless  they  get  to 
piling  up.  Then  we'll  have  to  see  what  we  can  do  to  hold 
them.  I  think  as  soon  as  the  driver  is  through  down  at  the 
sorting  end,  she'd  better  drive  a  few  clumps  of  piles  to 
strengthen  the  swing  when  it  is  shut.  Then  if  the  logs  pile 
down  on  us  from  above,  we  can  hold  them  there." 

About  two  hours  later  the  pile-driver  moved  up.  The 
swing  was  opened;  and  the  men  began  to  drive  clumps  of 
piles  in  such  a  position  as  to  strengthen  the  swing  when  the 
latter  should  be  shut.  It  was  a  slow  job.  Each  pile  had  to  be 
taken  from  the  raft  at  the  stern  of  the  scow,  erected  in  the 
"  carrier,"  and  pounded  into  place  by  the  heavy  hammer 
raised  and  let  drop  in  the  derrick  at  the  bow. 

Long  before  the  task  was  finished,  the  logs  in  the  tem- 
porary booms  had  begun  to  slide  atop  one  another,  to  cross 
and  tangle,  until  at  last  the  river  bed  inside  the  booms  was 
filled  with  a  jam  of  formidable  dimensions.  From  beneath 
it  the  water  boiled  in  eddies.  Orde,  looking  at  it,  roused 
himself  to  sudden  activity. 

"  Get  a  move  on,"  he  advised  Captain  Aspinwall  of  the 
driver.  "If  that  jam  breaks  on  us,  we  want  to  be  ready; 
and  if  it  don't  break  before  you  get  this  swing  strengthened> 
maybe  we  can  hold  her  where  she  is.  There's  no  earthly 
doubt  that  those  boom  piles  will  never  stand  up  when  they 
get  the  full  pressure  of  the  freshet." 

He  departed  up  river  on  a  tour  of  inspection  from  which 
he  returned  almost  immediately. 

"  Hurry  up !  Hurry  up !  "  he  cried.  "  She  can't  last  much 
longer!" 

Indeed  even  to  the  men  on  the  pile-driver,  evidences  of 
the  pressure  sustained  by  the  slender  boom  piles  were  not 


THE    RIVERMAN  307 

wanting.  Above  the  steady  gurgle  of  the  water  and  the 
intermittent  puffing  and  other  noises  of  the  work,  they  could 
hear  a  creaking  and  groaning  of  timbers  full  of  portent 
to  those  who  could  read  the  signs. 

The  driver's  crew  laboured  desperately,  hoisting  the  piles 
into  the  carriage,  tripping  the  heavy  hammer,  sending  it 
aloft  again,  binding  feverishly  the  clumps  of  piles  together 
by  means  of  cables.  Each  man  worked  with  an  eye  over  his 
shoulder,  fearful  of  the  power  that  menaced  him. 

Two  of  the  clumps  had  been  placed  and  bound;  a  third 
was  nearly  finished,  when  suddenly,  with  a  crack  and  a 
roar  the  upper  booms  gave  way,  projecting  their  logs  upon 
the  opening  and  the  driver. 

The  half  dozen  members  of  the  crew,  caught  utterly 
unaware  in  spite  of  the  half  warning  they  had  been  re- 
ceiving for  an  hour  past,  were  scattered  by  the  winds  of 
a  panic.  Two  or  three  flung  themselves  on  their  faces ;  sev- 
eral ran  from  one  end  of  the  scow  to  the  other ;  one  leaped 
into  the  river !  Imminent  destruction  seemed  upon  them. 

Tom  North,  at  the  winch  that  operated  the  arm  of  the 
swing,  however,  retained  his  presence  of  mind.  At  the  first 
sag  outward  of  the  boom  piles  he  set  in  operation  the 
machinery  that  closed  the  gate.  Clumsy  and  slow  as  was  his 
mechanism,  he  nevertheless  succeeded  in  getting  the  long 
arm  started.  The  logs,  rushing  in  back  of  it,  hurried  it  shut. 
Immediately  they  jammed  again,  and  heaped  up  in  a  for- 
midable tangle  behind  the  barrier.  Tom  North,  his  little 
black  pipe  between  his  teeth,  stood  calm,  the  lever  of  his 
winch  in  his  hand.  A  short  three  feet  from  the  spot  on  which 
he  stood,  the  first  saw  log  of  the  many  that  might  have 
overwhelmed  him  thrust  forward  its  ugly  head.  The  wash 
of  the  water  lifted  the  huge  pile-driver  bodily  and  deposited 
it  with  a  crash  half  on  the  bank  and  half  in  the  water. 

Instantly  after  the  first  break  Orde  had  commenced  run- 
ning out  over  the  booms  from  the  shore. 


308  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  Good  boy,  Tom !  "  he  shot  at  North  as  he  passed. 

Across  the  breast  of  the  jam  he  hurried,  and  to  the  other 
bank  where  the  pile-driver  lay.  The  crew  had  recovered  from 
their  panic,  and  were  ashore  gazing  curiously  underneath 
the  scow.  Captain  Aspinwall  examined  the  supports  of  the 
derrick  on  deck. 

"  That  was  lucky,"  said  Orde  briefly  to  Aspinwall. 
"  How's  the  damage  ?  Stove  you  in  ?  " 

"  I — I  don't  think  so,"  replied  the  captain,  turning  a  rather 
perturbed  face  to  Orde. 

"  That's  good.  I'll  send  over  the  tug  to  help  get  her 
afloat.  We've  got  our  work  cut  out  for  us  now.  As  soon  as 
you're  afloat,  blow  your  whistle  and  I'll  come  over  to  tell 
you  what  to  do." 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  work  my  driver  under  the  face 
of  that  jam!  "  cried  the  captain. 

"  Certainly,"  snapped  Orde,  wheeling. 

"  Not  me !  "  said  Aspinwall  positively.  "  I  know  when  I've 
got  enough ! " 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  It  isn't  safe,"  replied  the  captain ;  "  and  I  don't  intend 
to  risk  my  men  or  my  driver." 

Orde  stood  for  a  moment  stock-still;  then  with  a  snort 
of  anger  he  leaped  to  the  deck,  seized  the  man  by  the  neck 
and  thrust  him  bodily  over  the  side  to  the  bank. 

"  Safe,  you  white-livered  skunk !  "  he  roared.  "  Safe !  Go 
over  in  the  middle  of  that  ten-acre  lot  and  lie  down  on  your 
face  and  see  if  you  feel  safe  there !  Get  out ;  the  whole  pack 
of  you !  I'm  in  charge  here  now." 

Captain  Aspinwall  picked  himself  up,  his  face  red  with 
anger. 

"  Get  off  my  driver,"  he  snarled.  "  Put  that  man  off." 

Orde  seized  a  short  heavy  bar. 

"  This  driver  is  requisitioned,"  said  he.  "  Get  out !  I 
haven't  time  to  fool  with  you.  I've  got  to  save  my  logs." 


THE   RIVERMAN  309 

They  hesitated;  and  while  they  did  so  Tom  North  and 
some  others  of  the  crew  came  running  across  the  jam. 

"  Get  a  cable  to  the  winch,"  Orde  shouted  at  these  as 
soon  as  they  were  within  hearing.  "  And  get  Marsh  up  here 
with  the  Sprite.  We've  got  to  get  afloat." 

He  paid  no  more  attention  to  the  ejected  crew.  The  latter, 
overawed  by  the  rivermen,  who  now  gathered  in  full  force, 
took  the  part  of  spectators. 

A  few  minutes'  hard  work  put  the  driver  afloat.  For- 
tunately its  raft  of  piles  had  not  become  detached  in  the 
upheaval. 

"  Tom,"  said  Orde  briskly  to  North,  "  you  know  the  pile- 
driver  business.  Pick  out  your  crew,  and  take  charge." 

In  ten  seconds  of  time  the  situation  had  changed  from 
one  of  comparative  safety  to  one  of  extreme  gravity.  The 
logs,  broken  loose  from  the  upper  temporary  booms,  now 
jammed  against  the  swing  and  against  the  other  logs  already 
filling  the  main  booms.  Already  the  pressure  was  beginning 
to  tell,  as  the  water  banked  up  behind  the  mass.  The  fifteen- 
inch  cables  tightened  slowly  but  mightily ;  some  of  the  piles 
began  to  groan  and  rub  one  against  the  other;  here  and 
there  a  log  deliberately  up-ended  above  the  level. 

Orde  took  charge  of  the  situation  in  its  entirety,  as  a  gen- 
eral might.  He  set  North  immediately  to  driving  clumps 
each  of  sixteen  piles,  bound  to  solidity  by  chains,  and  so 
arranged  in  angles  and  slants  as  to  direct  the  enormous 
pressure  toward  either  bank,  thus  splitting  the  enemy's 
power.  The  small  driver  owned  by  the  Boom  Company  drove 
similar  clumps  here,  there  and  everywhere  that  need  arose 
or  weakness  developed.  Seventy-five  men  opposed,  to  the 
weight  of  twenty  million  tons  of  logs  and  a  river  of  water, 
the  expedients  invented  by  determination  and  desperation. 

As  in  a  virulent  disease,  the  symptoms  developed  rapidly 
when  once  the  course  of  the  malady  was  assured.  After  the 
first  rush,  when  the  upper  booms  broke,  nothing  spectaculai 


310  THE   RIVERMAN 

occurred.  Steadily  and  relentlessly  the  logs,  packed  close 
together  down  to  the  very  bed  of  the  stream,  pressed  out- 
ward against  the  frail  defences.  Orde  soon  found  him- 
self forced  from  the  consideration  of  definite  plans 
of  campaign.  He  gave  over  formal  defences,  and  threw 
his  energies  to  saving  the  weak  places  which  rapidly 
developed.  By  the  most  tremendous  exertions  he  seemed 
but  just  able  to  keep  even.  So  closely  balanced  was 
the  equilibrium  between  the  improvisation  of  defence  and 
the  increase  of  pressure  behind  the  jam  that  it  seemed 
as  if  even  a  moment's  breathing  spell  would  bring  the 
deluge.  Piles  quivered,  bent  slowly  outward — immediately, 
before  the  logs  behind  them  could  stir,  the  pile-driver  must 
do  its  work.  Back  and  forth  darted  the  Sprite  and  her 
sister-tug  the  Spray  towing  the  pile-drivers  or  the  strings 
of  piles.  Under  the  frowning  destruction  that  a  breath  might 
loosen,  the  crews  had  to  do  their  work.  And  if  ever  that 
breath  should  come,  there  would  be  no  chance  for  escape. 
Crushed  and  buried,  the  men  and  their  craft  alike  would  be 
borne  with  the  breaking  jam  to  an  unknown  grave  in  the 
Lake.  Every  man  knew  it. 

Darkness  came.  No  one  stopped  for  food.  By  the  light 
of  lanterns  the  struggle  went  on,  doubly  terrifying  in  the 
mystery  of  night.  By  day  the  men,  practised  in  such  matters, 
could  at  least  judge  of  the  probabilities  of  a  break.  At  night 
they  had  to  work  blindly,  uncertain  at  what  moment  the 
forces  they  could  not  see  would  cut  loose  to  overwhelm 
them. 

Morning  found  no  change  in  the  situation.  The  water  rose 
steadily ;  the  logs  grew  more  and  more  restive ;  the  defences 
weaker  and  more  inadequate.  Orde  brought  out  steaming 
pails  of  coffee  which  the  men  gulped  down  between  mo- 
ments. No  one  thought  of  quitting.  They  were  afire  with 
the  flame  of  combat,  and  were  set  obstinately  on  winning 
even  in  the  face  of  odds.  About  ten  o'clock  they  were  rein- 


THE    RIVERMAN  311 

forced  by  men  from  the  mills  downstream.  The  owners 
of  those  mills  had  no  mind  to  lose  their  logs.  Another 
pile-driver  was  also  sent  up  from  the  Government  work. 
Without  this  assistance  the  jam  must  surely  have  gone  out. 
Spectators  marvelled  how  it  held  as  it  did.  The  mass  seemed 
constantly  to  quiver  on  the  edge  of  motion.  Here  and  there 
over  the  surface  of  the  jam  single  logs  could  be  seen  pop- 
ping suddenly  into  the  air,  propelled  as  an  apple  seed  is 
projected  from  between  a  boy's  thumb  and  forefinger.  Some 
of  the  fifteen-inch  cables  stretched  to  the  shore  parted.  One, 
which  passed  once  around  an  oak  tree  before  reaching  its 
shore  anchorage,  actually  buried  itself  out  of  sight  in  the 
hard  wood.  Bunches  of  piles  bent,  twisted,  or  were  cut  off 
as  though  they  had  been  but  shocks  of  Indian  corn.  The 
current  had  become  so  swift  that  the  tugs  could  not  hold 
the  drivers  against  it;  and  as  a  consequence,  before  com- 
mencing operations,  special  mooring  piles  had  to  be  driven. 
Each  minute  threatened  to  bring  an  end  to  the  jam,  yet 
it  held;  and  without  rest  the  dogged  little  insects  under 
its  face  toiled  to  gain  an  inch  on  the  waters. 


XXXIX 

A,L  that  day  and  the  next  night  the  fight  was  hand 
to  hand,  without  the  opportunity  of  a  breathing 
space.    Then    Orde,    bareheaded    and    dishevelled, 
strung  to  a  high  excitement,  but  cool  as  a  veteran  under  fire, 
began  to  be  harassed  by  annoyances.  The  piles  provided  for 
the  drivers  gave  out.  Newmark  left,  ostensibly  to  purchase 
more.  He  did  not  return.  Tom  North  and  Jim  Denning,  their 
eyes  burning  deep  in  their  heads  for  lack  of  sleep,  came  to 
Orde  holding  to  him  symbolically  their  empty  hands. 

"  No  more  piles,"  they  said  briefly. 

"  Get  'em,"  said  Orde  with  equal  brevity.  "  Newmark  will 
have  enough  here  shortly.  In  the  meantime,  get  them." 

North  and  his  friend  disappeared,  taking  with  them  the 
crews  of  the  drivers  and  the  two  tugs.  After  an  interval 
they  returned  towing  small  rafts  of  the  long  timbers.  Orde 
did  not  make  any  inquiries;  nor  until  days  later  did  he 
see  a  copy  of  the  newspaper  telling  how  a  lawless  gang  of 
rivermen  had  driven  away  the  railroad  men  and  stolen  the 
railroad's  property.  These  piles  lasted  five  or  six  hours. 
Tom  North  placed  and  drove  them  accurately  and  deliber- 
ately, quite  unmindful  of  the  constant  danger.  A  cold  fire 
seemed  to  consume  the  man,  inflaming  his  courage  and  his 
dogged  obstinacy.  Once  a  wing  of  the  jam  broke  suddenly 
just  as  his  crew  had  placed  a  pile  in  the  carrier.  The  scow 
was  picked  up,  whirled  around,  carried  bodily  a  hundred 
feet,  and  deposited  finally  with  a  crash.  The  instant  the 
craft  steadied  and  even  before  any  one  could  tell  whether 
or  no  the  danger  was  past,  Tom  cut  loose  the  hammer  and 
drove  that  pile! 

312 


THE   RIVERMAN  313 

'I  put  you  in  that  carrier  to  be  drove!"  he  shouted 
adously,  "  and  drove  you'll  be,  if  we  are  goin'  to  hell ! " 

When  the  Spray  shouldered  the  scow  back  to  position 
that  one  pile  was  left  standing  upright  in  the  channel,  a 
monument  to  the  blind  determination  of  the  man. 

Fortunately  the  wing  break  carried  with  it  but  a  few 
logs ;  but  it  sufficed  to  show,  if  demonstration  were  need- 
ed, what  would  happen  if  any  more  serious  break  should 
occur. 

Orde  was  everywhere.  Long  since  he  had  lost  his  hat; 
and  over  his  forehead  and  into  his  eyes  the  strands  of  his 
hair  whipped  tousled  and  unkempt.  Miles  and  miles  he 
travelled;  running  along  the  tops  of  the  booms,  over  the 
surface  of  the  jam,  spying  the  weakening  places,  and  hurry- 
ing to  them  a  rescue.  He  seemed  tireless,  omnipresent,  alive 
to  every  need.  It  was  as  though  his  personality  alone  held 
in  correlation  these  struggling  forces;  as  though  were  he 
to  relax  for  an  instant  his  effort  they  would  burst  forth 
with  the  explosion  of  long-pent  energies. 

Toward  noon  the  piles  gave  out  again. 

"  Where  in  hell  is  Newmark ! "  exploded  Orde,  and  im- 
mediately was  himself  again,  controlled  and  resourceful. 
He  sent  North  and  a  crew  of  men  to  cut  piles  from  standing 
timber  in  farm  wood  lots  near  the  river. 

"  Haul  them  out  with  your  winch,"  said  he.  "  If  the  own- 
ers object,  stand  them  off  with  your  peavies.  Get  them 
anyway." 

About  three  of  the  afternoon  the  Lucy  Belle  splattered 
up  stream  from  the  village,  carrying  an  excursion  to  see 
the  jam.  Captain  Simpson  brought  her  as  close  in  as  pos- 
sible. The  waves  raised  by  her  awkward  paddle-wheel 
and  her  clumsy  lines  surged  among  the  logs  and  piles. 
Orde  looked  on  this  with  distrust. 

"  Go  tell  him  to  pull  out  of  that,"  he  instructed  Jimmy 
Powers  "  The  confounded  old  fool  ought  to  know  better 


31 4  THE    RIVERMAN 

than  that.  Tell  him  it's  dangerous.  If  the  jam  goes  out,  it'll 
carry  him  to  Kingdom  Come." 

Jimmy  Powers  returned  red-faced  from  his  interview. 

"  He  told  me  to  go  to  hell,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Oh,  he  did,"  snapped  Orde.  "  I  should  think  we  had 
enough  without  that  old  idiot !  " 

With  the  short  nervous  leaps  of  a  suppressed  anger  he 
ran  down  to  where  the  Sprite  had  just  towed  the  Number 
One  driver  into  a  new  position. 

"  Lay  me  alongside  the  Lucy  Belle"  he  told  Marsh. 

But  Simpson,  in  a  position  of  importance  at  last,  was 
disinclined  to  listen.  He  had  worn  his  blue  clothes  and  brass 
buttons  for  a  good  many  years  in  charge  only  of  boxes  and 
barrels.  Now  at  a  stroke  he  found  himself  commander  over 
tenscore  people.  Likewise,  at  fifty  cents  a  head,  he  foresaw 
a  good  thing  as  long  as  high  water  should  last.  He  had  risen 
nobly  to  the  occasion ;  for  he  had  even  hoisted  his  bunting 
and  brought  with  him  the  local  brass  band.  Orde,  brusque 
in  his  desire  to  hurry  through  an  affair  of  minor  importance, 
rubbed  the  man  the  wrong  way. 

"  I  reckon  I've  some  rights  on  this  river,"  Captain  Simp- 
son concluded  the  argument,  "  and  I  ain't  agoin'  to  be  bull- 
dozed out  of  them." 

The  excursionists,  typical  "  trippers  "  from  Redding,  Hol- 
land, Monrovia  and  Muskegon,  cheered  this  sentiment  and 
jeered  at  Orde. 

Orde  nodded  briefly. 

"  Marsh,"  said  he  to  his  captain  in  a  low  voice,  "  get  a 
crew  and  take  them  in  charge.  Run  'em  off." 

As  soon  as  the  tug  touched  the  piling,  he  was  off  and 
away,  paying  no  further  attention  to  a  matter  already  set- 
tled. Captain  Marsh  called  a  dozen  rivermen  to  him;  laid 
the  Sprite  alongside  the  Lucy  Belle,  and  in  spite  of  Simp- 
son's scandalised  protests  and  an  incipient  panic  among 
the  passengers,  thrust  aside  the  regular  crew  of  the  steam- 


THE   RIVERMAN 

ship  and  took  charge.  Quite  calmly  he  surveyed  the  scene. 
From  the  height  of  the  steamer's  bridge  he  could  see  abroad 
over  the  country.  A  warm  June  sun  flooded  the  landscape 
which  was  filled  with  the  peace  of  early  summer.  The 
river  seemed  to  flow  smoothly  and  quietly  enough,  in  spite 
of  the  swiftness  of  its  current  and  the  swollen  volume  of 
its  waters.  Only  up  stream  where  the  big  jam  shrugged  and 
groaned  did  any  element  jar  on  the  peace  of  the  scene ;  and 
even  that,  in  contrast  to  the  rest  of  the  landscape,  afforded 
small  hint  to  the  inexperienced  eye  of  the  imminence  of  a 
mighty  destruction. 

Captain  Marsh  paid  little  attention  to  all  this.  His  eye 
swept  rapidly  up  and  down  where  the  banks  used  to  be 
until  he  saw  a  cross  current  deeper  than  the  rest  sweeping 
in  athwart  the  inundated  fields.  He  swung  over  the  wheel 
and  rang  to  the  engine-room  for  half  speed  ahead.  Slowly 
the  Lucy  Belle  answered.  Quite  calmly  Captain  Marsh 
rammed  her  through  the  opening  and  out  over  the  corn- 
fields. The  Lucy  Belle  was  a  typical  river  steamboat,  built 
light  in  the  draught  in  order  to  slide  over  the  numerous 
shifting  bars  to  be  encountered  in  her  customary  business. 
When  Captain  Marsh  saw  that  he  had  hit  the  opening,  he 
rang  for  full  speed,  and  rammed  the  poor  old  Lucy  Belle 
hard  aground  in  about  a  foot  of  water  through  which  a 
few  mournful  dried  cornstalks  were  showing  their  heads. 
Then,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  sauntered  out  of  the 
pilot-house  to  the  deck. 

"  Now  if  you  want  to  picnic,"  he  told  the  astonished  and 
frightened  excursionists,  "  go  to  it !  " 

With  entire  indifference  to  the  water,  he  vaulted  over 
the  low  rail  and  splashed  away.  The  rivermen  and  the  en- 
gineer who  had  accompanied  him  lingered  only  long  enough 
to  start  up  the  band. 

"  Now  you're  safe  as  a  cow  tied  to  a  brick  wall,"  said 
the  Rough  Red,  whose  appearance  alone  had  gone  far 


THE    RIVERMAN 

toward  overawing  the  passengers.  "  Be  joyful.  Start  up  the 
music.  Start  her  up,  I  tell  you ! " 

The  band  hastily  began  to  squawk,  very  much  out  of 
time,  and  somewhat  out  of  tune. 

"  That's  right,"  grinned  the  Rough  Red  savagely,  "  keep 
her  up.  If  you  quit  before  I  get  back  to  work,  I'll  come  back 
and  take  you  apart." 

They  waded  through  the  shallow  water  in  the  cornfield. 
After  them  wafted  the  rather  disorganised  strains  of  Whoa, 
Emma.  Captain  Simpson  was  indulging  in  what  resembled 
heat  apoplexy.  After  a  time  the  Lucy  Belle's  crew  recovered 
their  scattered  wits  sufficiently  to  transport  the  passengers 
in  small  boats  to  a  point  near  the  county  road,  whence  all 
trudged  to  town.  The  Lucy  Belle  grew  in  the  cornfield 
until  several  weeks  later,  when  time  was  found  to  pull  her 
off  on  rollers. 

Arrived  at  the  booms  Captain  Marsh  shook  the  loose 
water  from  his  legs. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  he  reported  to  Orde.  "  I  ran  'em  ashore 
yonder." 

Orde  looked  up,  brushing  the  hair  from  his  eyes.  He 
glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  cornfield,  and  a  quick  grin 
flickered  across  the  absorbed  expression  of  his  face. 

"  I  should  think  you  did,"  said  he  briefly.  "  I  guess  that'll 
end  the  excursion  business.  Now  take  Number  Two  up  be- 
low the  swing;  and  then  run  down  and  see  if  you  can 
discover  Tom.  He  went  somewhere  after  piles  about  an 
hour  ago." 

Down  river  the  various  mill  owners  were  busy  with  what 
men  they  had  left  in  stringing  defences  across  the  river  in 
case  Orde's  works  should  go  out.  When  Orde  heard  this  he 
swore  vigourously. 

"  Crazy  fools,"  he  spat  out.  "  They'd  be  a  lot  better  off 
helping  here.  If  this  goes  out,  their  little  booms  won't 
amount  to  a  whiff  of  wind." 


THE   RIVERMAN  317 

He  sent  word  to  that  effect ;  but,  lacking  the  enforcement 
of  his  personal  presence  his  messages  did  not  carry  con- 
viction, and  the  panic-stricken  owners  continued  to  labour, 
each  according  to  his  ideas,  on  what  Orde's  clearer  vision 
saw  to  be  a  series  of  almost  comical  futilities.  However, 
Welton  answered  the  summons.  Orde  hailed  his  coming 
with  a  shout. 

"  I  wai  .t  a  dredge,"  he  yelled,  as  soon  as  the  lumberman 
was  within  distance.  "  I  believe  we  can  relieve  the  pressure 
somewhat  by  a  cl  annel  into  Steam's  1-  ayou.  Get  that  Gov- 
ernment dredge  up  and  through  the  bayou  as  soon  as  you 
can." 

"All  right,"  said  Welton  briefly.  "Cm  you  hold 
her?" 

"  I've  got  to  hold  her,"  replied  Orde  between  his  clenched 
teeth.  "  Have  you  seen  Newmark  ?  Where  in  hell  is  New- 
mark?  I  need  him  for  fifty  things,  and  he's  disappeared 
off  the  face  of  the  earth !  Purdy !  that  second  cable !  She's 
snapped  a  strand !  Get  a  reinforcing  line  on  her ! "  He  ran 
in  the  direction  of  the  new  danger  without  another  thought 
of  Welton. 

By  the  late  afternoon  casual  spectators  from  the  country- 
side had  gathered  in  some  number.  The  bolder  or  more 
curious  of  these  added  a  further  touch  of  anxiety  to  the 
situation  by  clambering  out  over  the  jam  for  a  better  view. 
Orde  issued  instructions  that  these  should  keep  off  the  logs ; 
but  in  spite  of  that,  with  the  impertinent  perseverance  of  the 
sight-seer,  many  persisted  from  time  to  time,  when  the  river- 
men  were  too  busily  engaged  to  attend  to  them,  in  venturing 
out  where  they  were  not  only  in  danger  but  also  in  the  way. 
Tom  North  would  have  none  of  this  on  his  pile-driver.  If 
a  man  was  not  actually  working,  he  had  no  business  on 
Number  One. 

"  But,"  protested  a  spectator  mildly,  "  I  own  this  driver. 
I  haven't  any  objections  to  your  grabbing  her  in  this  enter- 


318  THE   RIVERMA3S7 

gency,  even  if  you  did  manhandle  my  captain;  but  surely 
you  are  not  going  to  keep  me  off  my  own  property  ?  " 

"  I  don't  gi  ye  ±.  tinker's  damn  who  you  are,"  replied 
North  sturdily.  "  If  you're  not  working,  you  get  off." 

And  get  off  he  did. 

The  brof.d  deck  of  the  pile-driver  scow  was  a  tempting 
point  from  which  to  survey  the  work,  and  the  ugly  jam,  and 
the  water  boiling  angrily,  and  the  hollow-eyed,  t  ishevelled 
maniacs  who  worked  doggedly  with  set  teeth  as  though  they 
had  not  already  gone  without  two  nights'  sleep.  North 
had  often  to  order  ashore  intruders,  until  his  temper  short- 
ened to  the  vanishing  point.  One  big  hulking  countryman 
attempted  to  urgue  the  point.  North  promptly  knocked  him 
overboard  into  the  shallow  water  between  the  driver  and 
the  bank.  He  did  not  rise ;  so  North  fished  for  him  in  the 
most  matter-of-fact  way  with  a  boat  hook,  threw  him  on  the 
bank  unconscious,  and  went  on  driving  piles !  The  incident 
raised  a  laugh  among  the  men. 

But  flesh  and  blood  has  its  limit  of  endurance;  and  that 
limit  was  almost  reached.  Orde  heard  the  first  premonitions 
of  reaction  in  the  mild  grumblings  that  arose.  He  knew 
these  men  well  from  his  long  experience  with  them.  Al- 
though the  need  for  struggle  against  the  tireless  dynamics 
of  the  river  was  as  insistent  as  ever;  although  it  seemed 
certain  that  a  moment's  cessation  of  effort  would  permit 
the  enemy  an  irretrievable  gain,  he  called  a  halt  on  the 
whole  work. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  irrelevantly,  "  let's  have  a  smoke." 

He  set  the  example  by  throwing  himself  full  length 
against  a  slanting  pile  and  most  leisurely  filling  his  pipe. 
The  men  stared  a  moment;  then  followed  his  example.  A 
great  peace  of  evening  filled  the  sky.  The  horizon  lay  low 
and  black  against  the  afterglow.  Beneath  it  the  river 
shone  like  silver.  Only  the  groaning,  the  heave  and 
shrugging  of  the  jam,  and  the  low  threatening  gurgle  of 


THE   RIVERMAN  319 

hurrying  waters  reminded  the  toil-weary  men  of  the  enemy's 
continued  activity.  Over  beyond  the  rise  of  land  that  lay 
between  the  river  and  Steam's  Bayou  could  be  seen  the 
cloud  of  mingled  smoke  and  steam  that  marked  the  activi- 
ties of  the  dredge.  For  ten  minutes  they  rested  in  the  so- 
lace of  tobacco.  Orde  was  apparently  more  at  ease  than 
any  of  the  rest,  but  each  instant  he  expected  to  hear  the  pre- 
monitory crack  that  would  sound  the  end  of  everything. 
Finally  he  yawned,  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  and 
got  to  his  feet. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  a  new  ring  in  his  voice,  "  come  on  and 
let's  get  something  done!" 

They  responded  to  a  man. 


XL 

/ 

BY  midnight  the  water  seemed  to  have  gone  down 
slightly.  Half  the  crew  snatched  a  little  sleep.  For 
several  hours  more  the  issue  hung  aggravatingly 
in  equilibrium.  Then,  with  the  opening  of  the  channel  into 
Steam's  Bayou  the  heaviest  pressure  was  relieved.  For  the 
moment  the  acute  danger  point  was  passed. 

Orde  spent  the  next  two  days  in  strengthening  the  de- 
fences. The  men  were  able  to  take  their  quota  of  meals  and 
of  sleep.  Merely  the  working  hours  were  longer  than  usual. 
Orde  himself  slept  little,  and  was  still  possessed  by  a  fev- 
erish activity.  The  flood  continued  at  about  the  same  volume. 
Until  the  water  should  subside,  the  danger  could  not  be 
considered  completely  over  with. 

In  these  few  days  of  comparative  leisure  Orde  had  time 
to  look  about  him  and  to  receive  news.  The  jam  had  been 
successfully  held  at  the  iron  railroad  bridge  above  Redding ; 
but  only  by  the  most  strenuous  efforts.  Braces  of  oak  beams 
had  been  slanted  where  they  would  do  the  most  good ;  chains 
strengthened  the  weaker  spots;  and  on  top  of  all  ton  after 
ton  of  railroad  iron  held  the  whole  immovably.  Nolan  had 
enjoyed  the  advantage  of  a  "floating"  jam;  of  convenient 
facilities  incident  to  a  large  city;  and  of  an  aroused  public 
sentiment  that  proffered  him  all  the  help  he  could  use. 
Monrovia,  little  village  that  it  was,  had  not  grasped  the  situ- 
ation. Redding  saw  it  clearly.  The  loss  of  the  timber  alone 
— representing  some  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  the  sawed 
product — would  mean  failure  of  mill  companies,  of  banks 
holding  their  paper,  and  so  of  firms  in  other  lines  of  busi- 
ness; and  besides  would  throw  thousands  of  men  out  of 

ffQ 


THE    RIVERMAN  321 

employment.  Furthermore,  what  was  quite  as  serious,  should 
the  iron  bridge  give  way,  the  wooden  bridges  below  could 
hardly  fail  to  go  out.  Railroad  communication  between 
eastern  and  western  Michigan  would  be  entirely  cut  off. 
For  a  season  industry  of  every  description  would  be  prac- 
tically paralysed.  Therefore  Nolan  had  all  the  help  he  re- 
quired. Every  device  known  was  employed  to  strengthen 
the  jam.  For  only  a  few  hours  was  the  result  in  doubt. 
Then  as  the  Clarion  jubilantly  expressed  it,  "  It's  a  hundred 
dollars  to  an  old  hat  she  holds !  " 

Orde  received  all  this  with  satisfaction,  but  with  a  slight 
scepticism. 

"  It's  a  floating  jam ;  and  it  gets  a  push  from  underneath," 
he  pointed  out.  "  It's  probably  safe ;  but  another  flood  mi^rht 
send  it  out." 

"  The  floods  are  going  down, '  said  North. 

"  Good  Lord;  I  hope  so!  "  said  Orde. 

Newmark  sent  word  that  a  sudden  fit  of  sickness  had 
confined  him  to  the  house. 

"  Didn't  think  of  a  little  thing  like  piles,"  said  Orde  to 
himself.  "  Well,  that's  hardly  fair.  Joe  couldn't  have  realised 
when  he  left  here  just  how  bad  things  were." 

For  two  days,  as  has  been  said,  nothing  happened.  Then 
Orde  decided  to  break  out  a  channel  through  the  jam  itself. 
This  was  a  necessary  preliminary  to  getting  the  logs  in 
shape  for  distribution.  An  opening  was  made  in  the  piles, 
and  the  rivermen,  with  pike-pole  and  peavy,  began  cautious- 
ly to  dig  their  way  through  the  tangled  timbers.  The  Gov- 
ernment pile-driver,  which  had  finally  been  sent  up  from 
below,  began  placing  five  extra  booms  at  intervals  down 
stream  to  capture  the  drift  as  fast  as  it  was  turned  loose. 
From  the  mills  and  private  booms  crews  came  to  assist  in 
the  labour.  The  troubles  appeared  to  be  quite  over,  when 
word  came  from  Redding  that  the  waters  were  again  rising. 
Ten  minutes  later  Leopold  Lincoln  Bunn,  the  local  reporter, 


322  THE   RIVERMAN 

came  flapping  in  on  Randall's  old  white  horse,  like  a  second 
Paul  Revere,  crying  that  the  iron  bridge  had  gone,  and  the 
logs  were  racing  down  river  toward  the  booms. 

"  It  just  went  out!  "  he  answered  the  eager  exclamations 
of  the  men  who  crowded  around  him.  "  That's  all  I  know.  It 
went  out!  And  the  other  bridges!  Sure!  All  but  the  Lake 
Shore!  Don't  know  why  that  didn't  go  out.  No;  the  logs 
didn't  jam  there;  just  slid  right  under!" 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  Welfeon,  turning  away. 

"  You  aren't  going  to  quit !  "  cried  Orde. 

"Certainly.  You're  crazy!"  said  "Welton  with  some  as- 
perity. "  If  they  can't  stop  a  little  jam  with  iron,  what  are 
your  wooden  defences  going  to  amount  to  against  the  whole 
accumulation?  When  those  logs  hit  the  tail  of  this  jam, 
she  11  go  out  before  you  can  wink." 

He  refused  to  listen  to  argument. 

"  It's  sure  death,"  said  he,  "  and  I'm  not  going  to  sacri- 
fice my  men  for  nothing,  even  if  they'd  stay." 

Other  owners  among  the  bystanders  said  the  same  thing. 
An  air  of  profound  discouragement  had  fallen  on  them  all. 
The  strain  of  the  fight  was  now  telling.  The  utmost  that 
human  flesh  and  blood  was  capable  of  had  been  accom- 
plished; a  hard-won  victory  had  been  gained  by  the  nar- 
rowest of  narrow  margins.  In  this  new  struggle  the  old  odds 
were  still  against  them,  and  in  addition  the  strength  that 
had  pushed  aside  Redding's  best  effort,  augmented  by  the 
momentum  of  a  powerful  current.  It  was  small  wonder  they 
gave  up. 

Already  the  news  was  spreading  among  the  workers  on 
the  jams.  As  man  shouted  to  man,  each  shouldered  his 
peavy  and  came  running  ashore,  eager  question  on  his  lips. 
Orde  saw  the  Government  driver  below  casting  loose  from 
her  moorings.  A  moment  later  her  tug  towed  her  away  to 
some  side  bayou  of  safety  out  of  the  expected  rush  to  the 
Lake. 


THE    RIVERMAN  323 

"  But  we  can  hold  her ! "  cried  Orde  in  desperation. 
"  Have  a  little  nerve  with  you.  You  aren't  going  to  quit 
like  that!" 

He  swept  them  with  his  eye ;  then  turned  away  from  them 
with  a  gesture  of  despair.  They  watched  him  gravely  and 
silently. 

"  It's  no  use,  boy,"  said  old  Carlin ;  "  it's  sure  death." 

"  Sure  death !  "  Orde  laughed  bitterly.  "  All  right ;  sure 
death,  then.  Isn't  there  a  man  in  this  crowd  that  will  tackle 
this  sort  of  sure  death  with  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  with  you."  "  And  me,"  said  North  and  the  Rough 
Red  in  a  breath. 

"  Good ! "  cried  Orde.  "  You,  too,  Johnny  Sims  ?  and 
Purdy  ?  and  Jimmy  Powers  ?  Bully  boys !  " 

"  I  reckon  you'll  need  the  tug,"  said  Marsh. 

A  dozen  more  of  Orde's  personal  following  volunteered. 
At  once  his  good  humour  returned;  and  his  easy  leisurely 
confidence  in  himself. 

"  We've  got  to  close  that  opening,  first  thing,"  said  he. 
"  Marsh,  tow  the  pile-driver  up  there." 

He  caused  a  heavy  line  to  be  run  from  a  tree,  situated 
around  the  bend  down  stream,  to  the  stern  of  the  driver. 

"  Now  if  you  have  to,"  he  told  North,  who  had  charge, 
"  let  go  all  holds,  and  the  line  will  probably  swing  you 
around  out  of  danger.  We  on  the  tug  will  get  out  as  best 
we  can." 

The  opening  was  to  be  closed  by  piles  driven  in  groups 
of  sixteen  bound  together  by  chains.  The  clumps  were  con- 
nected one  to  the  other  by  a  system  of  boom  logs  and  ropes 
to  interpose  a  continuous  barrier.  The  pile-driver  placed 
the  clumps;  while  the  tug  attended  to  the  connecting  de- 
fences. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Orde  as  his  last  word,  "  if  she  starts 
to  go,  save  yourselves  the  best  way  you  can.  Never  mind 
the  driver.  Stay  on  top!" 


THE    RIVERMAN 

Slowly  the  tug  and  her  consort  nosed  up  through  the 
boiling  water. 

"  She's  rising  already,"  said  Orde  to  Marsh,  watching  the 
water  around  the  piles. 

"  Yes,  ana  that  jam's  going  out  before  many  minutes," 
supplemented  the  tugboat  captain  grimly. 

Both  these  statements  were  only  too  true.  Although  not 
fifteen  minutes  before,  the  jam  had  lain  locked  in  perfect 
safety,  now  the  slight  rise  of  the  waters  had  lifted  and 
loosened  the  mass  until  it  rose  fairly  on  the  quiver. 

"  Work  fast !  "  Orde  called  to  the  men  on  the  pile-driver. 
"  If  we  can  close  the  opening  before  those  Redding  logs 
hit  us,  we  may  be  able  to  turn  them  into  our  new  channel." 

He  did  not  add  that  if  the  opening  were  not  closed  before 
the  jam  broke,  as  break  it  would  in  a  very  few  moments, 
the  probabilities  were  that  both  pile-driver  and  tug  wouki 
be  destroyed.  Every  man  knew  that  already. 

Tom  North  ordered  a  pile  placed  in  the  carriage;  the 
hammer  descended.  At  once,  like  battering  rams  logs  began 
to  shoot  up  from  the  depths  of  the  river  end  foremost  all 
about  them.  These  timbers  were  projected  with  tremendous 
force,  leaping  sometimes  half  their  length  above  the  surface 
of  the  water.  If  any  of  them  had  hit  either  the  tug  or  the 
pile-driver  squarely,  it  would  have  stove  and  sunk  the  craft. 
Fortunately  this  did  not  happen;  but  Marsh  hastily  towed 
the  scow  back  to  a  better  position.  The  pile  had  evidently 
been  driven  into  the  foot  of  the  jam  itself,  thus  loosening 
timbers  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  river. 

The  work  went  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible.  Four  times 
the  jam  shrugged  and  settled ;  but  four  times  it  paused  on 
the  brink  of  discharge.  Three  of  the  clumps  had  been  placed 
and  bound;  and  fifteen  piles  of  the  last  clump  had  been 
driven. 

"  One  more  pile !  "  breathed  Orde,  his  breath  quickening 
a  trifle  as  he  glanced  up  stream. 


THE    RIVERMAN  325 

The  hammer  in  the  high  derrick  ran  smoothly  to  the  top, 
paused,  and  fell.  A  half  dozen  times  more  it  ripped.  Then 
without  delay  the  heavy  chains  were  thrown  around  the 
winch,  and  the  steam  power  began  to  draw  the  clumps  to- 
gether. 

"  Done !  "  cried  Tom  North,  straightening  his  back. 

"And  a  job  in  time,  too,"  said  Johnny  Sims,  indicating 
the  creaking  and  tottering  jam. 

North  unmoored,  and  the  driver  dropped  back  with  the 
current  and  around  the  bend  where  she  was  snubbed  by 
the  safety  line  already  mentioned. 

Immediately  the  tug  churned  forward  to  accomplish  the 
last  duty,  that  of  binding  the  defences  together  by  means  of 
chains  and  cables.  Two  men  leaped  to  the  floating  booms 
and  moved  her  fore  and  aft.  Orde  and  the  Rough  Red  set 
about  the  task.  Methodically  they  worked  from  either  end 
toward  the  middle.  When  they  met  finally,  Orde  directed  his 
assistant  to  get  aboard  the  tug. 

"  I'll  tie  this  one,  Jimmy,"  said  he. 

Aboard  the  tug  all  was  tense  preparation.  Marsh  grasped 
alertly  the  spokes  of  the  wheel.  In  the  engine-room  Harvey, 
his  hand  on  the  throttle,  Stood  ready  to  throw  her  wide  open 
at  the  signal.  Armed  with  sharp  axes  two  men  prepared  to 
cut  the  mooring  lines  on  a  sign  from  the  Rough  Red.  They 
watched  his  upraised  hand.  When  it  should  descend,  their 
axes  must  fall. 

"  Look  out,"  the  Rough  Red  warned  Orde,  who  was  me- 
thodically tying  the  last  cumbersome  knot,  "  she's  getting 
ready !  " 

Orde  folded  the  knot  over  without  reply.  Up  stream  the 
jam  creaked,  groaned,  settled  deliberately  forward,  cutting 
a  clump  of  piles  like  straw. 

"  She's  coming.'  "  cried  the  Rough  Red. 

"  Give  me  every  second  you  can,"  said  Orde,  without  look- 
ing up.  He  was  just  making  the  last  turns. 


326  THE    RIVERMAN 

The  mass  toppled  slowly,  fell  into  the  swift  current,  and 
leaped  with  a  roar.  The  Rough  Red  watched  with  cat-like 
attention. 

"  Jump !  "  he  cried  at  last,  and  his  right  arm  descended. 

With  the  shout  and  the  motion  several  things  happened 
simultaneously.  Orde  leaped  blindly  for  the  rail,  where  he 
was  seized  and  dragged  aboard  by  the  Rough  Red ;  the  axes 
fell,  Marsh  whirled  over  the  wheel,  Harvey  threw  open  his 
throttle.  The  tug  sprang  from  its  leash  like  a  hound.  And 
behind  the  barrier  the  logs,  tossing  and  tumbling,  the  white 
spray  flying  before  their  onslaught,  beat  in  vain  against  the 
barrier,  like  raging  wild  beasts  whose  prey  has  escaped. 

"  Close  call,"  said  Orde  briefly. 

"  Bet  you,"  replied  Marsh. 

Neither  referred  to  the  tug's  escape ;  but  to  the  fortunate 
closing  of  the  opening. 


XLI 

ORDE  now  took  steps  to  deflect  into  the  channel  re- 
cently  dredged   to    Steam's    Bayou   the   mass  of 
the  logs  racing  down  stream  from  Redding.  He 
estimated  that  he  had  still  two  hours  or  so  in  which  to  dtf 
the  work.  In  this  time  he  succeeded  by  the  severest  efforts 
in  establishing  a  rough  shunt  into  the  new  channel.  The 
logs  would  come  down  running  free.  Only  the  shock  of  their 
impact  against  the  tail  of  the  jam  already  formed  was  to 
be  feared.  Orde  hoped  to  be  able  to  turn  the  bulk  of  them 
aside. 

This  at  first  he  succeeded  in  doing ;  and  very  successfully 
'as  affecting  the  pressure  on  the  jam  below.  The  first  logs 
came  scattering.  Then  in  a  little  while  the  surface  of  the 
river  was  covered  with  them;  they  shouldered  each  other 
aside  in  their  eagerness  to  outstrip  the  rushing  water ;  finally 
they  crowded  down  more  slowly,  hardly  able  to  make  their 
way  against  the  choking  of  the  river  banks,  but  putting  forth 
in  the  very  effort  to  proceed  a  tremendous  power.  To  the 
crew  working  in  the  channel  dredged  through  to  Steam's 
Bayou  the  affair  was  that  of  driving  a  rather  narrow  and 
swift  stream,  only  exaggerated.  By  quick  and  skilful  work 
they  succeeded  in  keeping  the  logs  in  motion.  A  large  pro- 
portion of  the  timbers  found  their  way  into  the  bayou.  Those 
that  continued  on  down  the  river  could  hardly  have  much 
effect  on  the  jam. 

The  work  was  breathless  in  its  speed.  From  one  to  an- 
other sweat-bathed,  panting  man  the.  logs  were  handed  on. 
As  yet  only  the  advance  of  the  big  jam  had  arrived  at  the 
dredged  channel. 

327 


328  THE   RIVERMAN 

Orde  looked  about  him  and  realised  this. 

"  We  can't  keep  this  up  when  the  main  body  hits  us,"  ht 
panted  to  his  neighbour,  Jim  Denning.  "  We'll  have  to 
do  some  more  pile-driver  work." 

He  made  a  rapid  excursion  to  the  boom  camp,  whence  he 
returned  with  thirty  or  forty  of  the  men  who  had  given  up 
work  on  the  jam  below. 

"  Here,  boys,"  said  he,  "  you  can  at  least  keep  these  logs 
moving  in  this  channel  for  a  couple  of  hours.  This  isn't 
dangerous." 

He  spoke  quite  without  sarcastic  intent ;  but  the  rivermen, 
already  over  their  first  panic,  looked  at  each  other  a  trifle 
shamefacedly. 

"  I'll  tie  into  her  wherever  you  say,"  said  one  big  fellow. 
"  If  you  fellows  are  going  back  to  the  jam,  I'm  with  you." 

Two  or  three  more  volunteered.  The  remainder  said  noth- 
ing, but  in  silence  took  charge  of  the  dredged  channel. 

Orde  and  his  men  now  returned  to  the  jam  where,  on  the 
pile-driver,  the  tugs,  and  the  booms,  they  set  methodically  to 
strengthening  the  defences  as  well  as  they  were  able. 

"  She's  holding  strong  and  dandy,"  said  Orde  to  Tom 
North,  examining  critically  the  clumps  of  piles.  "  That 
channel  helps  a  lot  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  takes  an  awful 
lot  of  water  out  of  the  river.  As  long  as  those  fellows  keep 
the  logs  moving,  I  really  believe  we're  all  right." 

But  shortly  the  water  began  to  rise  again,  this  time  fairly 
by  leaps.  In  immediate  response  the  jam  increased  its  pres- 
sure. For  the  hundredth  time  the  frail  wooden  defences  op- 
posed to  millions  of  pounds  were  tested  to  the  very  extreme 
of  their  endurance.  The  clumps  of  piles  sagged  outward ;  the 
network  of  chains  and  cables  tightened  and  tightened  again, 
drawing  ever  nearer  the  snapping  point.  Suddenly,  almost 
without  warning,  the  situation  had  become  desperate. 

And  for  the  first  time  Orde  completely  lost  his  poise  and 
became  fluently  profane.  He  shook  his  fist  against  the  mena- 


THE   RIVERMAN  329 

cing  logs;  he  apostrophised  the  river,  the  high  water,  the 
jam,  the  deserters,  Newmark  and  his  illness,  ending  finally 
in  a  general  anathema  against  any  and  all  streams,  logs,  and 
floods.  Then  he  stormed  away  to  see  if  anything  had  gone 
wrong  at  the  dredged  channel. 

"  Well,"  said  Tom  North,  "  they've  got  the  old  man  real 
good  and  mad  this  time." 

The  crew  went  on  driving  piles,  stringing  cables,  binding 
chains,  although,  now  that  the  inspiration  of  Orde's  com- 
bative spirit  was  withdrawn  the  labours  seemed  useless, 
futile,  a  mere  filling  in  of  the  time  before  the  supreme  mo- 
ment when  they  would  be  called  upon  to  pay  the  sacrifice 
their  persistence  and  loyalty  had  proffered  for  the  altar  of 
self-respect  and  the  invincibility  of  the  human  soul. 

At  the  dredged  channel  Orde  saw  the  rivermen  standing 
idle,  and,  half-blind  with  anger;  he  burst  upon  them  de- 
manding by  this,  that  and  the  other  what  they  meant.  Then 
he  stopped  short  and  stared. 

Square  across  the  dredged  channel  and  completely  block- 
ing it  lay  a  single  span  of  an  iron  bridge.  Although  twisted 
and  misshapen,  it  was  still  intact,  the  framework  of  its 
overhead  truss-work  retaining  its  cage-like  shape.  Behind 
it  the  logs  had  of  course  piled  up  in  a  jam,  which,  sinking 
rapidly  to  the  bed  of  the  channel,  had  dammed  back  the 
water. 

"  Where  in  hell  did  that  drop  from  ?  "  cried  Orde. 

"  Come  down  on  top  the  jam,"  explained  a  riverman. 
"  Must  have  come  way  from  Redding.  We  just  couldn't 
scare  her  out  of  here." 

Orde,  suddenly  fallen  into  a  cold  rage,  stared  at  the  ob- 
struction, both  fists  clenched  at  his  side. 

"  Too  bad,  boy,"  said  Welton  at  his  elbow.  "  But  don't 
tak«  it  too  hard.  You've  done  more  than  any  of  the  rest 
of  us  could.  And  we're  all  losers  together," 

Qrde  looked  at  him  strangely, 


330  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  That  about  settles  it,"  repeated  Welton. 

"  Settle !  "  cried  Orde.  "  I  should  think  not." 

Welton  smiled  quaintly. 

"  Don't  you  know  when  you're  licked  ?  " 

"  Licked,  hell !  "  said  Orde.  "  We've  just  begun  to  fight" 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  Get  that  bridge  span  out  of  there,  of  course." 

"How?" 

"  Can't  we  blow  her  up  with  powder  ?  " 

"  Ever  try  to  blow  up  iron  ?  " 

"  There  must  be  some  way." 

"Oh,  there  is,"  replied  Welton.  "Of  course — take  her 
apart  bolt  by  bolt  and  nut  by  nut." 

"  Send  for  the  wrenches,  then,"  snapped  Orde. 

"  But  it  would  take  two  or  three  days,  even  working  night 
and  day." 

"What  of  it?" 

"  But  it  would  be  too  late — it  would  do  no  good " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  interrupted  Orde ;  "  but  it  will  be  doing 
something,  anyway.  Look  here,  Welton,  are  you  game?  If 
you'll  get  that  bridge  out  in  two  days  I'll  hold  the  jam." 

"  You  can't  hold  that  jam  two  hours,  let  alone  two  days/' 
said  Welton  decidedly. 

"  That's  my  business.  You're  wasting  time.  Will  you  send 
'for  lanterns  and  wrenches  and  keep  this  crew  working  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Welton. 

"  Then  do  it." 

During  the  next  two  days  the  old  scenes  were  all  relived, 
with  back  of  them  the  weight  of  the  struggle  that  had  gone 
before.  The  little  crew  worked  as  though  mad.  Excepting 
them,  no  one  ventured  on  the  river,  for  to  be  caught  in  the 
imminent  break  meant  to  die.  Old  spars,  refuse  timbers  of 
all  sorts — anything  and  everything  was  requisitioned  that 
might  help  form  an  obstruction  above  or  below  water.  Piles 
were  taken  where  they  could  be  found.  Farmer's  trees  were 


THE    Rl  VERM  AN  331 

cut  down.  Pines  belonging  to  divers  and  protesting  owners 
were  felled  and  sharpened.  Some  were  brought  in  by  rail. 
Even  the  inviolate  Government  supply  was  commandeered. 
The  Railroad  Company  had  a  fine  lot  which,  with  re- 
markable shortsightedness  and  lack  of  public  spirit,  they 
refused  to  sell  at  any  price.  The  crew  took  them  by  force. 
Once  Captain  Marsh  was  found  up  to  his  waist  in  water, 
himself  felling  the  trees  of  a  wood,  and  dragging  them  to 
the  river  by  a  cable  attached  to  the  winch  of  his  tug.  Night 
followed  day ;  and  day  night  again.  None  of  the  crews  real- 
ised the  fact.  The  men  were  caught  in  the  toils  of  a  labour 
ceaseless  and  eternal.  Never  would  it  end,  just  as  never  had 
it  begun.  Always  were  they  to  handle  piles,  steam  hammers 
and  /he  implements  of  their  trade,  menaced  by  a  jam  on  the 
point  of  breaking,  wet  by  a  swollen  and  angry  flood,  over- 
arched by  a  clear  calm  sky  or  by  the  twinkling  peaceful  stars. 
Long  since  had  they  ceased  to  reckon  with  the  results  of 
what  they  did,  the  consequences  either  to  themselves  or  to 
the  jam.  Mechanically  they  performed  their  labour.  Per- 
haps the  logs  would  kill  them.  Perhaps  these  long,  black, 
dripping  piles  they  drove  were  having  some  effect  on  the 
situation.  Neither  possibility  mattered. 

Then  all  at  once,  as  though  a  faucet  had  been  turned  off, 
the  floods  slackened. 

"  They've  opened  the  channel,"  said  Orde  dully.  His  voice 
sounded  to  himself  very  far  away.  Suddenly  the  external 
world,  too,  seemed  removed  to  a  distance,  far  from  his 
centre  of  consciousness.  He  felt  himself  moving  in  strange 
and  distorted  surroundings;  he  heard  himself  repeating  to 
each  of  a  number  of  wavering,  gigantic  figures  the  talis- 
manic  words  that  had  accomplished  the  dissolution  of  the 
earth  for  himself :  "  They've  opened  the  channel."  At  last 
he  felt  hard  planks  beneath  his  feet,  and,  shaking  his  head 
with  an  effort,  he  made  out  the  pilot-house  of  the  Sprite 
and  a  hollow-eyed  man  leaning  against  it.  "  They've  opened 


332  THE   RIVERMAN 

the  channel,  Marsh,"  he  repeated.  "  I  guess  that'll  be  all." 
Then  quite  slowly  he  sank  to  the  deck,  sound  asleep. 

Welton,  returning  from  his  labours  with  the  iron  bridge 
and  the  jam,  found  them  thus.  Men  slept  on  the  deck  of 
the  tug,  aboard  the  pile-driver.  Two  or  three  had  even 
curled  up  in  the  crevices  of  the  jam,  resting  in  the  arms  of 
the  monster  they  had  subdued. 


XLII 

WHEN  Newmark  left,  in  the  early  stages  of  the 
jam,  he  gave  scant  thought  to  the  errand  on 
which  he  had  ostensibly  departed.  Whether  or 
not  Orde  got  a  supply  of  piles  was  to  him  a  matter  of  in- 
difference. His  hope,  or  rather  preference  was  that  the  jam 
should  go  out;  but  he  saw  clearly  what  Orde,  blinded  by 
the  swift  action  of  the  struggle,  was  as  yet  unable  to  perceive. 
Even  should  the  riverman  succeed  in  stopping  the  jam,  the 
extraordinary  expenses  incidental  to  the  defence  and  to  the 
subsequent  salvaging,  untangling  and  sorting  would  more 
than  eat  up  the  profits  of  the  drive.  Orde  would  then  be 
forced  to  ask  for  an  extension  of  time  on  his  notes. 

On  arriving  in  Monrovia,  he  drove  to  his  own  house.  To 
Mallock  he  issued  orders. 

"  Go  to  the  office  and  tell  them  I  am  ill,"  said  he,  "  and 
then  hunt  up  Mr.  Heinzman,  wherever  he  is,  and  tell  him  I 
want  to  see  him  immediately." 

He  did  not  trouble  to  send  word  directly  to  Orde,  up  river ; 
but  left  him  to  be  informed  by  the  slow  process  of  filtration 
through  the  bookkeepers.  The  interim  of  several  hours  be- 
fore Heinzman  appeared  he  spent  very  comfortably  in  his 
easy  chair,  dipping  into  a  small  volume  of  Montaigne. 

At  length  the  German  was  announced.  He  entered  rather 
red  and  breathless,  obviously  surprised  to  find  Newmark 
at  home. 

"  Dot  was  a  terrible  jam,"  said  he,  mopping  his  brow  and 
sinking  into  a  chair.  "  I  got  lots  of  logs  in  it." 

Newmark  dismissed  the  subject  with  an  abrupt  flip  of  his 
unlighted  cigar. 

333 


334  THE    RIVERMAN 

"  Heinzman,"  said  he,  "  in  three  weeks  at  the  latest  Orde 
will  come  to  you  asking  for  a  renewal  of  the  notes  you  hold 
against  our  firm.  You  must  refuse  to  make  such  a  renewal." 

"  All  righdt,"  agreed  Heinzman. 

"  He'1l  probably  offer  you  higher  interest.  You  must  re- 
fuse that.  Then  when  the  notes  are  overdue  you  must  begin 
suit  in  foreclosure." 

"  All  righdt,"  repeated  Heinzman  a  little  restlessly.  "  Do 
you  think  he  vill  hold  that  jam  ?  " 

Newmark  shrugged  his  shoulders  swiftly. 

"  I  got  lots  of  logs  in  that  jam.  If  that  jam  goes  out  I  vill 
lose  a  heap  of  money." 

"  Well,  you'll  make  quite  a  heap  on  this  deal,"  said  New- 
mark  carelessly. 

"  Suppose  he  holds  it,"  said  Heinzman,  pausing.  "  I  hate 
like  the  mischief  to  joomp  on  him." 

"Rot!"  said  Newmark  decisively.  "That's  what  he's 
there  for."  He  looked  at  the  German  sharply.  "  I  suppose 
you  know  just  how  deep  you're  in  this?  " 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  backing  oudt,"  negatived  Heinzman.  "  Not 
a  bit." 

"  Well,  then,  you  know  what  to  do,"  said  Newmark,  ter- 
minating the  interview. 


XLIII 

ETTLE  by  little  the  water  went  down.  The  pressure^ 
already  considerably  relieved  by  the  channel  intci 
Steam's  Bayou,  slackened  every  hour.  Orde,  still 
half  dazed  with  his  long-delayed  sleep,  drove  back  along  the 
marsh  road  to  town. 

His  faculties  were  still  in  the  torpor  that  follows  rest 
after  exhaustion.  The  warm  July  sun,  the  breeze  from  the 
Lake,  the  flash  of  light  from  the  roadside  water,  these  were 
all  he  had  room  for  among  his  perceptions.  He  was  content 
to  enjoy  them,  and  to  anticipate  drowsily  the  keen  pleasure 
of  seeing  Carroll  again.  In  the  rush  of  the  jam  he  had 
heard  nothing  from  her.  For  all  he  knew  she  and  Bobby 
might  have  been  among  the  spectators  on  the  bank ;  he  had 
hardly  once  left  the  river.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  strange 
that  Carroll  should  not  have  been  there  to  welcome  him 
after  the  struggle  was  over.  Rarely  did  she  get  to  the  booms 
in  ordinary  circumstances.  This  episode  of  the  big  jam  was, 
after  all,  nothing  but  part  of  the  day's  work  to  Orde;  a 
crisis,  exaggerated  it  is  true,  but  like  many  other  crises 
a  man  must  meet  and  cope  with  on  the  river.  There  was  no 
reason  why  Carroll  should  drive  the  twelve  miles  between 
Monrovia  and  the  booms,  unless  curiosity  should  take  her. 

As  the  team  left  the  marsh  road  for  the  county  turnpike 
past  the  mills  and  lumberyards,  Orde  shook  himself  fully 
awake.  He  began  to  review  the  situation.  As  Newmark  had 
accurately  foreseen,  he  came  almost  immediately  to  a  realisa- 
tion that  the  firm  would  not  be  able  to  meet  the  notes 
given  to  Heinzman.  Orde  had  depended  on  the  profits 

335 


336  THE   RIVERMAN 

from  the  season's  drive  to  enable  him  to  make  up  the  neces- 
sary amount.  Those  profits  would  be  greatly  diminished,  if 
not  wiped  out  entirely,  by  the  expenses,  both  regular  and 
irregular,  incurred  in  holding  the  jam;  by  the  damage  suits 
surely  to  be  brought  by  the  owners  of  the  piles,  trees,  pile- 
drivers  and  other  supplies  and  materials  requisitioned  in 
the  heat  of  the  campaign ;  and  by  the  extra  labour  necessary 
to  break  out  the  jam  and  to  sort  the  logs  according  to  their 
various  destinations. 

"  I'll  have  to  get  an  extension  of  time,"  said  Orde  to 
himself.  "  Of  course  Joe  will  let  me  have  more  time  on  my 
own  personal  note  to  the  firm.  And  Heinzman  surely  ought 
to — I  saved  a  lot  of  his  logs  in  that  jam.  And  if  he  doesn't 
want  to,  I  guess  an  offer  of  a  little  higher  interest  will  fetch 
him." 

Ordinarily  the  state  of  affairs  would  have  worried  him, 
for  it  was  exactly  the  situation  he  had  fought  against  so 
hard.  But  now  he  was  too  wearied  in  soul  and  body.  He 
dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind.  The  horses,  left  al- 
most to  themselves,  lapsed  into  a  sleepy  jog.  After  a  little 
they  passed  the  bridge  and  entered  the  town.  Warm  spicy 
odours  of  pine  disengaged  themselves  from  the  broken 
shingles  and  sawdust  of  the  roadway,  and  floated  upward 
through  the  hot  sunshine.  The  beautiful  maples  with  their 
dense  shadows  threw  the  sidewalks  into  coolness.  Up  one 
street  and  down  another  the  horses  took  their  accustomed 
way.  Finally  they  pulled  up  opposite  the  Orde  house.  Orde 
hitched  the  horses,  and,  his  step  quickening  in  anticipation, 
sprang  up  the  walk  and  into  the  front  door. 

"  Hullo,  sweetheart !  "  he  called  cheerily. 

The  echoes  alone  answered  him.  He  cried  again,  and  yet 
again,  with  a  growing  feeling  of  disappointment  that  Carroll 
should  happen  to  be  from  home.  Finally  a  door  opened  and 
shut  in  the  back  part  of  the  house.  A  moment  later  Mary, 
the  Irish  servant  girl,  came  through  the  dining-room,  caught 


THE   RIVERMAN  337 

sight  of  Orde,  threw  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  burst 
into  one  of  those  extravagant  demonstrations  of  grief  pecu- 
liar to  the  warm-hearted  of  her  class. 

Orde  stopped  short,  a  sinking  at  his  heart. 

"  What  is  it,  Mary  ?  "  he  asked  very  quietly. 

But  the  girl  only  wept  the  louder,  rocking  back  and  forth 
in  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  grief.  Beside  himself  with  anxiety 
Orde  sprang  forward  to  shake  her  by  the  arm,  to  shower 
her  with  questions.  These  elicited  nothing  but  broken  and 
incoherent  fragments  concerning  "  the  missus,"  "  oh,  the 
sad  day !  "  "  and  me  lift  all  alone  with  Bobby,  me  heart  that 
heavy,"  and  the  like,  which  served  merely  to  increase  Orde's 
bewilderment  and  anxiety.  At  this  moment  Bobby  himself 
appeared  from  the  direction  of  the  kitchen.  Orde,  frantic 
with  alarm,  fell  upon  his  son.  Bobby,  much  bewildered  by 
all  this  pother,  could  only  mumble  something  about  "  small- 
pox," and  "  took  mamma  away  with  doctor." 

"  Where  ?  where,  Bobby  ? "  cried  Orde,  fairly  shaking 
the  small  boy  by  the  shoulder.  He  felt  like  a  man  in  a  bad 
dream,  trying  to  reach  a  goal  that  constantly  eluded  him. 

At  this  moment  a  calm,  dry  voice  broke  through  the  tur- 
moil of  questions  and  exclamations.  Orde  looked  up  to  see 
the  tall,  angular  form  of  Doctor  McMullen  standing  in 
the  doorway. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  the  doctor  in  answer  to  Orde's  ago- 
nised expression.  "  Your  wife  was  exposed  to  smallpox  and 
is  at  my  house  to  avoid  the  danger  of  spreading  contagion. 
She  is  not  ill." 

Having  thus  in  one  swift  decisive  sentence  covered  the 
ground  of  Orde's  anxiety,  he  turned  to  the  sniffling  servant. 

"  Mary,"  said  he  sternly,  "  I'm  ashamed  of  you !  What 
kind  of  an  exhibition  is  this?  Go  out  to  the  kitchen  and 
cook  us  some  lunch !"  He  watched  her  depart  with  a  humour- 
ous quirk  to  his  thin  lips.  "  Fool  Irish ! "  he  said  with  a 
Scotchman's  contempt.  "  I  meant  to  head  you  off  before  you 


338  THE   RIVERMAN 

got  home,  but  I  missed  you.  Come  in  and  sit  down,  and  I'll 
tell  you  about  it." 

"  You're  quite  sure  Mrs.  Orde  is  well  ?  "  insisted  Orde. 

"  Absolutely.  Never  better.  As  well  as  you  are." 

"  Where  was  she  exposed  ?  " 

"  Down  at  Heinzman's.  You  know — or  perhaps  you  don't 
— that  old  Heinzman  is  the  worst  sort  of  anti-vaccination 
crank.  Well,  he's  reaped  the  reward." 

"Has  he  smallpox?"  asked  Orde.  "Why,  I  thought  I 
remembered  seeing  him  up  river  only  the  other  day." 

"  No ;  his  daughter." 

"Mina?" 

"  Yes.  Lord  knows  where  she  got  it.  But  get  it  she  did. 
Mrs.  Orde  happened  to  be  with  her  when  she  was  taken 
with  the  fever  and  distressing  symptoms  that  begin  the  dis- 
ease. As  a  neighbourly  deed  she  remained  with  the  girl. 
Of  course  no  one  could  tell  it  was  smallpox  at  that  time. 
Next  day,  however,  the  characteristic  rash  appeared  on  the 
thighs  and  armpits,  and  I  diagnosed  the  case."  Dr.  Mc- 
Mullen  laughed  a  little  bitterly.  "  Lord,  you  ought  to  have 
seen  them  run !  Servants,  neighbours,  friends — they  all  ske- 
daddled, and  you  coudn't  have  driven  them  back  with  a 
steam-roller !  I  telegraphed  to  Redding  for  a  nurse.  Until  she 
came  Mrs.  Orde  stayed  by,  like  a  brick.  Don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done  without  her.  There  was  nobody  to  do  any- 
thing at  all.  As  soon  as  the  nurse  came  Mrs.  Orde  gave  up 
her  post.  I  tell  you,"  cried  Doctor  McMullen  with  as  near  an 
approach  to  enthusiasm  as  he  ever  permitted  himself,  "  there's 
a  sensible  woman!  None  of  your  story-book  twaddle  about 
nursing  through  the  illness,  and  all  that.  When  her  usefulness 
was  ended,  she  knew  enough  to  step  aside  gracefully.  There 
was  not  much  danger  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  I  had  vac- 
cinated her  myself,  you  know,  last  year.  But  she  might  take 
the  contagion  and  she  wanted  to  spare  the  youngster.  Quite 
right.  So  I  offered  her  quarters  with  us  for  a  couple  of  weeks." 


THE   RIVERMAN  339 

"  How  long  ago  was  this  ?  "  asked  Orde,  who  had  listened 
with  a  warm  glow  of  pride  to  the  doctor's  succinct  state- 
ment. 

"  Seven  days." 

"  How  is  Mina  getting  on?  " 

"  She'll  get  well.  It  was  a  mild  case.  Fever  never  serious 
after  the  eruption  appeared.  I  suppose  I'll  have  old  Heinz- 
man  on  my  hands,  though." 

"Why;  has  he  taken  it?" 

"  No ;  but  he  will.  Emotional  old  German  fool.  Rushed 
right  in  when  he  heard  his  daughter  was  sick.  Couldn't  keep 
him  out.  And  he's  been  with  her  or  near  her  ever  since." 

"  Then  you  think  he's  in  for  it  ?  " 

"  Sure  to  be,"  replied  Dr.  McMullen.  "  Unless  a  man  has 
been  vaccinated,  continuous  exposure  means  infection  in 
the  great  majority  of  cases." 

"  Hard  luck,"  said  Orde  thoughtfully.  "  I'm  going  to  step 
up  to  your  house  and  see  Mrs.  Orde." 

"  You  can  telephone  her,"  said  the  doctor.  "  And  you  can 
see  her  if  you  want  to.  Only  in  that  case  I  should  advise  your 
remaining  away  from  Bobby  until  we  see  how  things  turn 
out." 

"  I  see,"  said  Orde.  "  Well,"  he  concluded  with  a  sigh, 
after  a  moment's  thought,  "  I  suppose  I'd  better  stay  by  the 
ship." 

He  called  up  Dr.  McMullen's  house  on  the  telephone. 

"  Oh,  it's  good  to  hear  your  voice  again,"  cried  Carroll, 
"  even  if  I  can't  see  you !  You  must  promise  me  right  after 
lunch  to  walk  up  past  the  house  so  I  can  see  you.  I'll  wave 
at  you  from  the  window." 

"  You're  a  dear,  brave  girl,  and  I'm  proud  of  you,"  said 
Orde. 

"  Nonsense !  There  was  no  danger  at  all.  I'd  been  vacci- 
nated recently.  And  somebody  had  to  take  care  of  poor  Mina 
until  we  could  get  help.  How's  Bobby?  " 


XLIV 

ATER  lunch  Orde  went  downtown  to  his  office  where 
for  some  time  he  sat  idly  looking  over  the  mail. 
About  three  o'clock  Newmark  came  in. 

"  Hullo,  Joe,"  said  Orde  with  a  slight  constraint,  "  sorry 
to  hear  you've  been  under  the  weather.  You  don't  look  very 
sick  now." 

"  I'm  better,"  replied  Newmark,  briefly ;  "  this  is  my  first 
appearance." 

"  Too  bad  you  got  sick  just  at  that  time,"  said  Orde ;  "  we 
needed  you." 

"  So  I  hear.  You  may  rest  assured  I'd  have  been  there  if 
possible." 

"  Sure  thing,"  said  Orde,  heartily,  his  slight  resentment 
dissipating,  as  always,  in  the  presence  of  another's  person- 
ality. "  Well,  we  had  a  lively  time,  you  bet,  all  right ;  and 
got  through  about  by  the  skin  of  our  teeth."  He  arose  and 
walked  over  to  Newmark'*  desk,  on  the  edge  of  which  he 
perched.  "  It's  cost  us  considerable ;  and  it's  going  to  cost 
us  a  lot  more,  I'll  have  to  get  an  extension  on  those  notes." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Newmark,  quickly. 

Orde  picked  up  a  paper  knife  and  turned  it  slowly  be- 
tween his  fingers. 

"  I  don't  believe  I'll  be  able  to  meet  those  notes.  So  many 
things  have  happened " 

"  But,"  broke  in  Newmark,  "  the  firm  certainly  cannot  do 
so.  I've  been  relying  on  your  assurance  that  you  would  take 
them  up  personally.  Our  resources  are  all  tied  up." 

"  Can't  we  raise  anything  more  on  the  Northern  Peninsula 
timber  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

34<> 


THE   RIVERMAN  341 

"  You  ought  to  know  we  can't,"  cried  Newmark,  with  an 
appearance  of  growing  excitement.  "  The  last  seventy-five 
thousand  we  borrowed  for  me  finishes  that." 

"  Can't  you  take  up  part  of  your  note  ?  " 

"  My  note  comes  due  in  1885,"  rejoined  Newmark  with 
cold  disgust.  "  I  expect  to  take  it  up  then.  But  I  can't  until 
then.  I  hadn't  expected  anything  like  this." 

"Well,  don't  get  hot,"  said  Orde  vaguely.  "I  only 
thought  that  Northern  Peninsula  stuff  might  be  worth  sav- 
ing any  way  we  could  figure  it." 

"  Worth  saving ! "  snorted  Newmark,  whirling  in  his 
chair. 

"  Well,  keep  your  hair  on,"  said  Orde,  on  whom  New- 
mark's  manner  was  beginning  to  have  its  effect,  as  New- 
mark  intended  it  should.  "  You  have  my  Boom  Company 
stock  as  security." 

"  Pretty  security  for  the  loss  of  a  tract  like  the  Upper 
Peninsula  timber !  " 

"  Well,  it's  the  security  you  asked  for,  and  suggested," 
said  Orde. 

"  I  thought  you'd  surely  be  able  to  pay  it,"  retorted  New- 
mark,  now  secure  in  the  position  he  desired  to  take,  that  of 
putting  Orde  entirely  in  the  wrong. 

"  Well,  I  expected  to  pay  it ;  and  I'll  pay  it  yet,"  rejoined 
Orde.  "  I  don't  think  Heinzman  will  stand  in  his  own  light 
rather  than  renew  the  notes." 

He  seized  his  hat  and  departed.  Once  in  the  street,  how- 
ever, his  irritation  passed.  As  was  the  habit  of  the  man,  he 
began  more  clearly  to  see  Newmark's  side,  and  so  more  em- 
phatically to  blame  himself.  After  all,  when  he  got  right 
down  to  the  essentials,  he  could  not  but  acknowledge  that 
Newmark's  anger  was  justified.  For  his  own  private  ends 
he  had  jeopardised  the  firm's  property.  More  of  a  business 
man  might  have  reflected  that  Newmark,  as  financial  head, 
should  have  protected  the  firm  against  all  contingencies; 


342  THE    RIVERMAN 

should  have  seen  to  it  that  it  met  Heinzman's  notes,  instead 
of  tying  up  its  resources  in  unnecessary  ways.  Orde's  own 
delinquency  bulked  too  large  in  his  eyes  to  admit  his  per- 
ception of  this.  By  the  time  he  had  reached  Heinzman's 
office,  the  last  of  his  irritation  had  vanished.  Only  he  realised 
clearly  now  that  it  would  hardly  do  to  ask  Newmark  for  a 
renewal  of  the  personal  note  on  which  depended  his  retention 
of  his  Boom  Company  stock  unless  he  could  renew  the 
Heinzman  note  also.  This  is  probably  what  Newmark  in- 
tended. 

"  Mr.  Heinzman  ?  "  he  asked  briefly  of  the  first  clerk. 

"  Mr.  Heinzman  is  at  home  ill,"  replied  the  bookkeeper. 

"  Already !  "  said  Orde.  He  drummed  on  the  black  walnut 
rail  thoughtfully.  The  notes  came  due  in  ten  days.  "  How 
bad  is  he?" 

The  clerk  looked  up  curiously.  "  Can't  say.  Probably 
won't  be  back  for  a  long  time.  It's  smallpox,  you  know." 

"  True,"  said  Orde.  "  Well,  who's  in  charge?  " 

"  Mr,  Lambert.  You'll  find  him  in  the.  private  office." 

Orde  passed  through  the  grill  into  the  inner  room. 

"  Hullo,  Lambert,"  he  addressed  the  individual  seated  at 
Heinzman's  desk.  "  So  you're  the  boss,  eh  ?  " 

Lambert  turned,  showing  a  perfectly  round  face,  orna- 
mented by  a  dot  of  a  nose,  two  dots  of  eyes  set  rather  close 
together,  and  a  pursed  up  mouth.  His  skin  was  very  brown 
and  shiny,  and  was  so  filled  by  the  flesh  beneath  as  to  take 
the  appearance  of  having  been  inflated. 

"  Yes,  I'm  the  boss,"  said  he  non-committally. 

Orde  dropped  into  a  chair. 

"  Heinzman  holds  some  notes  due  against  our  people  in 
ten  days,"  said  he.  "  I  came  in  to  see  about  their  renewal. 
Can  you  attend  to  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  attend  to  it,"  replied  Lambert.  He  struck  a 
bell ;  and  to  the  bookkeeper  who  answered  he  said :  "  John, 
bring  me  those  Newmark  &  Orde  papers," 


THE   RIVERMAN  343 

Orde  heard  the  clang  of  the  safe  door.  In  a  moment  the 
clerk  returned  and  handed  to  Lambert  a  long  manilla  en- 
velope. Lambert  opened  this  quite  deliberately,  spread  its 
contents  on  his  knee,  and  assumed  a  pair  of  round  spectacles. 

"  Note  for  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  with  interest  at 
ten  per  cent.  Interest  paid  to  January  tenth.  Mortgage  deed 
on  certain  lands  described  herein." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Orde. 

Lambert  looked  up  over  his  spectacles. 

"  I  want  to  renew  the  note  for  another  year,"  Orde  ex- 
plained. 

"  Can't  do  it,"  replied  Lambert,  removing  and  folding 
the  glasses. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Mr.  Heinzman  gave  me  especial  instructions  in  regard 
to  this  matter  just  before  his  daughter  was  taken  sick.  He 
told  me  if  you  came  when  he  was  not  here — he  intended  to 
go  to  Chicago  yesterday^-to  tell  you  he  would  not  renew." 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  Orde  blankly. 

"  I  don't  know  that." 

"  But  I'll  give  him  twelve  per  cent,  for  another  year." 

"  He  said  not  to  renew,  even  if  you  offered  higher  in- 
terest." 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  whether  he  intends  anything 
in  regard  to  this  mortgage  ?  " 

"  He  instructed  me  to  begin  suit  in  foreclosure  immedi- 
ately." 

"  I  don't  understand  this,"  said  Orde. 

Lambert  shook  his  head  blandly.  Orde  thought  for  a 
moment. 

"  Where's  your  telephone  ?  "  he  demanded  abruptly. 

He  tried  in  vain  to  get  Heinzman  at  his  house.  Finally 
the  telephone  girl  informed  him  that  although  messages  had 
come  from  the  stricken  household,  she  had  been  unable  to 
get  an  answer  to  any  of  her  numerous  calls,  and  suspected 


344  THE   RIVERMAN 

the  bell  had  been  removed.  Finally  Orde  left  the  office  at  a 
loss  how  to  proceed  next.  Lambert,  secretly  overjoyed  at 
this  opportunity  of  exercising  an  unaccustomed  and  auto- 
cratic power,  refused  to  see  beyond  his  instructions.  Heinz- 
man's  attitude  puzzled  Orde.  A  foreclosure  could  gain 
Heinzman  no  advantage  of  immediate  cash.  Orde  was  forced 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  German  saw  here  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  acquire  cheap  a  valuable  property.  In  that  case 
a  personal  appeal  would  avail  little. 

Orde  tramped  out  to  the  end  of  the  pier  and  back,  mulling 
over  the  tangled  problem.  He  was  pressed  on  all  sid-s — by 
the  fatigue  after  his  tremendous  exertions  of  the  past  two 
weeks ;  by  his  natural  uneasiness  in  regard  to  Carroll ;  and 
finally  by  this  new  complication  which  threatened  the  very 
basis  of  his  prosperity.  Nevertheless  the  natural  optimism 
of  the  man  finally  won  its  ascendency. 

"  There's  the  year  of  redemption  on  that  mortgage,"  he 
reminded  himself.  "  We  may  be  able  to  do  something  in 
that  time.  I  don't  know  just  what,"  he  added  whimsically, 
with  a  laugh  at  himself.  He  became  grave.  "  Poor  Joe,"  he 
said,  "  this  is  pretty  tough  on  him.  I'll  have  to  make  it  up 
to  him  somehow.  I  can  let  him  in  on  that  California  deal, 
when  the  titles  are  straightened  out." 


XLV 

ORDE  did  not  return  to  the  office ;  he  felt  unwilling 
to  face  Newmark  until  he  had  a  little  more  thor- 
oughly digested  the  situation.  He  spent  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon  about  the  place,  picking  up  the  tool  house, 
playing  with  Bobby,  training  Duke,  the  black  and  white 
setter  dog.  Three  or  four  times  he  called  up  Carroll  by  tele- 
phone; and  three  or  four  times  he  passed  Dr.  McMullen's 
house  to  shout  his  half  of  a  long-distance  and  fragmentary 
conversation  with  her.  He  ate  solemnly  with  Bobby  at  six 
o'clock,  the  two  quite  subdued  over  the  vacant  chair  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table.  After  dinner  they  sat  on  the  porch 
until  Bobby's  bed-time.  Orde  put  his  small  son  to  bed,  and 
sat  talking  with  the  youngster  as  long  as  his  conscience 
would  permit.  Then  he  retired  to  the  library,  where,  for  a 
long  time,  he  sat  in  twilight  and  loneliness.  Finally,  when  he 
could  no  longer  distinguish  objects  across  the  room,  he  arose 
with  a  sigh,  lit  the  lamp,  and  settled  himself  to  read. 

The  last  of  the  twilight  drained  from  the  world,  and  the 
window  panes  turned  a  burnished  black.  Through  the  half- 
open  sashes  sucked  a  warm  little  breeze,  swaying  the  long 
lace  curtains  back  and  forth.  The  hum  of  lawn-sprinklers 
and  the  chirping  of  crickets  and  tree-frogs  came  with  it. 

One  by  one  the  lawn-sprinklers  fell  silent.  Gradually  there 
descended  upon  the  world  the  deep  slumbrous  stillness  of 
late  night;  a  stillness  compounded  of  a  thousand  and  one 
mysterious  little  noises  repeated  monotonously  over  and 
over  until  their  identity  was  lost  in  accustomedness.  Occa- 
sionally the  creak  of  timbers  or  the  sharp  scurrying  of  a 

345 


346  THE   RIVERMAN 

mouse  in  the  wall  served  more  to  accentuate  than  to  break 
this  night  silence. 

Orde  sat  lost  in  reverie,  his  book  in  his  lap.  At  stated 
intervals  the  student  lamp  at  his  elbow  flared  slightly,  then 
burned  clear  again  after  a  swallow  of  satisfaction  in  its 
reservoir.  These  regular  replenishments  of  the  oil  supply 
alone  marked  the  flight  of  time. 

Suddenly  Orde  leaned  forward,  his  senses  at  the  keenest 
attention.  After  a  moment  he  arose  and  quietly  walked  to- 
ward the  open  window.  Just  as  he  reached  the  casement  and 
looked  out,  a  man  looked  in.  The  two  stared  at  each  other 
not  two  feet  apart. 

"  Good  Lord !  Heinzman !  "  cried  Orde  in  a  guarded  voice. 

He  stepped  decisively  through  the  window,  seized  the 
German  by  the  arm,  and  drew  him  one  side. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Heinzman  was  trembling  violently  as  though  from  a  chill. 

"  Dake  me  somewheres,"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "  Some- 
wheres  quick.  I  haf  broke  quarantine,  and  dey  vill  be  after 
me." 

"  The  place  for  you  is  at  your  own  house,"  said  Orde,  his 
anger  rising.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here  and  ex- 
posing my  house  to  infection  ?  " 

Heinzman  began  to  blubber;  choked,  shivered  all  over, 
and  cried  aloud  with  an  expression  of  the  greatest  agony : 

"  You  must  dake  me  somewheres.  I  must  talk  with  you 
and  your  goot  wife.  I  haf  somedings  to  say  to  you."  He  in 
his  turn  grasped  Orde  by  the  arm.  "  I  haf  broke  quarantine 
to  gome  and  tell  you.  Dey  are  dere  mit  shotguns  to  kill  me 
if  I  broke  quarantine.  And  I  haf  left  my  daughter,  my 
daughter  Mina,  all  alone  mit  dose  people  to  come  and  tell 
you.  And  now  you  don't  listen." 

He  wrung  his  hands  dramatically,  his  soft  pudgy  body 
shaking. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Orde  briefly. 


THE    RIVERMAN  347 

He  led  the  way  around  the  house  to  the  tool  shed.  Here 
he  lit  a  lantern,  thrust  forward  one  nail  keg,  and  sat  down 
on  another. 

Heinzman  sat  down  on  the  nail  keg,  almost  immediately 
arose,  walked  up  and  down  two  or  three  times,  and  re- 
sumed his  seat. 

Orde  looked  at  him  curiously.  He  was  half  dressed,  with- 
out a  collar,  his  thin  hair  unkempt.  The  usual  bright  colour 
of  his  cheeks  had  become  livid,  and  the  flesh,  ordinarily  firm 
and  elastic,  had  fallen  in  folds  and  wrinkles.  His  eyes 
burned  bright  as  though  from  some  internal  fire.  A  great 
restlessness  possessed  him.  Impulsively  Orde  leaned  for- 
ward to  touch  his  hand.  It  was  dry  and  hot. 

"  What  is  it,  Heinzman  ? "  he  asked  quietly,  fully  pre- 
pared for  the  vagaries  of  a  half  delirium. 

"  Ach,  Orde ! "  cried  the  German,  "  I  am  tortured  mit 
hbllenqualle — what  you  call? — hell's  fire.  You,  whose  wife 
comes  in  and  saves  my  Mina  when  the  others  runs  away. 
You,  my  best  friends !  It  is  schrecklich  \  She  vas  the  noblest, 
the  best,  the  most  kindest " 

"  If  you  mean  Mrs.  Orde's  staying  with  Mina,"  broke  in 
Orde,  "  it  was  only  what  any  one  should  have  done,  in  hu- 
manity ;  and  I,  for  one,  am  only  too  glad  she  had  the  chance. 
You  mustn't  exaggerate.  And  now  you'd  better  get  home 
where  you  can  be  taken  care  of.  You're  sick." 

"No,  no,  my  friend,"  said  Heinzman,  vigourously  shaking 
his  head.  "  She  might  take  the  disease.  She  might  die.  It 
vas  noble."  He  shuddered.  "  My  Mina  left  to  die  all  alone !  " 

Orde  rose  to  his  feet  with  decision. 

"  That  is  all  right,"  said  he.  "  Carroll  was  glad  of  the 
chance.  Now  let  me  get  you  home." 

But  Heinzman's  excitement  had  suddenly  died. 

"  No,"  said  he,  extending  his  trembling  hand ;  "  sit  down. 
I  want  to  talk  business." 

"  You  are  in  no  condition  to  talk  business,"  said  Orde. 


348  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  No ! "  cried  Heinzman  with  unexpected  vigour.  "  Sit 
down!  Listen  to  me!  Dot's  better.  I  haf  your  note  for 
sef enty-five  t'ousand  dollars.  No  ?  " 

Orde  nodded. 

"Dot  money  I  never  lent  you.  No!  I'm  not  crazy.  Sit 
still !  I  know  my  name  is  on  dot  note.  But  the  money  came 
from  somewheres  else.  It  came  from  your  partner,  Joseph 
Newmark." 

Orde  half  rose  from  his  keg. 

"Why?  What?"  he  asked  in  bewilderment. 

"  Den  ven  you  could  not  pay  the  note,  I  vas  to  fore- 
close and  hand  over  dot  Northern  Peninsula  land  to  Joseph 
Newmark,  your  partner." 
•     "  Impossible !  "  cried  Orde. 

"  I  vas  to  get  a  share.  It  vas  a  trick." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Orde  grimly. 

"  Dere  is  no  go  on.  Dot  is  all." 

"  Why  do  vou  come  to  tell  me  now  ?  " 

"  Because  for  more  than  one  year  now  I  say  to  mineself, 
'  Carl  Heinzman,  you  vas  one  dirty  scoundrel.  You  vas  dis- 
honest; a  sneak;  a  thief ';  I  don't  like  to  call  myself  names 
like  dose.  It  iss  all  righdt  to  be  smart ;  but  to  be  a  thief !  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  pull  out?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  I  couldn't !  "  cried  Heinzman  piteously.  "  How  could  I  ? 
He  haf  me  cold.  I  paid  Stanford  five  hundred  dollars  for 
his  vote  on  the  charter ;  and  Joseph  Newmark,  he  know  dot ; 
he  can  prove  it.  He  tell  me  if  I  don't  do  what  he  say,  he  put 
me  in  jail.  Think  of  dot !  All  my  friends  go  back  on  me ;  all 
my  money  gone ;  maybe  my  daughter  Mina  go  back  on  me, 
too.  How  could  I  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  can  still  put  you  in  prison,"  said  Orde. 

"  Vot  I  care  ?  "  cried  Heinzman,  throwing  up  both  his 
arms.  "  You  and  your  wife  are  my  friends.  She  save  my 
Mina.  Du  lieber  Gottl  If  my  daughter  had  died,  vot  good 
iss  friends  and  money  ?  Vot  good  iss  anything  ?  I  don't  vant 


THE   RIVERMAN  549 

to  live !  And  ven  I  sit  dere  by  her  always  something  ask  me : 
'  Vy  you  do  dot  to  the  peoples  dot  safe  your  Mina  ? '  And 
Yen  she  look  at  me,  her  eyes  say  it ;  and  in  the  night  every- 
thing cry  out  at  me ;  and  I  get  sick,  and  I  can't  stand  it  no 
longer,  and  I  don't  care  if  he  send  me  to  prison  or  to  hell, 
no  more." 

His  excitement  died.  He  sat  listless,  his  eyes  vacant,  hi* 
^ands  between  his  knees. 

"  Veil,  I  go,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Have  you  that  note  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  Joseph  Newmark,  he  keeps  it  most  times,"  replied  Heinz- 
man,  "  but  now  it  is  at  my  office  for  the  foreclosure.  I  vill 
not  foreclose ;  he  can  send  me  to  the  penitentiary." 

"  Telephone  Lambert  in  the  morning  to  give  it  to  me.  No ; 
here.  Write  an  order  in  this  notebook." 

Heinzman  wrote  the  required  order. 

"  I  go,"  said  he,  suddenly  weary. 

Orde  accompanied  him  down  the  street.  The  German  was 
again  light-headed  with  the  fever,  mumbling  about  his 
daughter,  the  notes,  Carroll,  the  voices  that  had  driven  him 
to  righteousness.  By  some  manoeuvring  Orde  succeeded  in 
slipping  him  through  the  improvised  quarantine  without  dis- 
covery. Then  the  riverman  with  slow  and  thoughtful  steps 
returned  to  where  the  lamp  in  the  study  still  marked  off 
with  the  spaced  replenishments  from  its  oil  reservoir  the 
early  morning  hours. 


XLVI 

MORNING  found  Orde  still  seated  in  the  library 
chair.  His  head  was  sunk  forward  on  his  chest; 
his  hands  were  extended  listless,  palms  up,  along 
the  arms  of  the  chair;  his  eyes  were  vacant  and  troubled. 
Hardly  once  in  the  long-  hours  had  he  shifted  by  a  hair's 
breadth  his  position.  His  body  was  suspended  in  an  abso- 
lute inaction  while  his  spirit  battered  at  the  walls  of  an  im- 
passe. For,  strangely  enough,  Orde  did  not  once,  even  for  a 
single  instant,  give  a  thought  to  the  business  aspects  of 
the  situation — what  it  meant  to  him  and  his  prospects  or 
what  he  could  do  about  it.  Hurt  to  the  soul  he  stared  at 
the  wreck  of  a  friendship.  Nothing  will  more  deeply  sicken 
the  heart  of  a  naturally  loyal  man  than  to  discover  baseless 
his  faith  in  some  one  he  has  thoroughly  trusted. 

Orde  had  liked  Newmark.  He  had  admired  heartily  his 
clearness  of  vision,  his  financial  skill,  his  knowledge  of 
business  intricacies,  his  imperturbable  coolness,  all  the  abili- 
ties that  had  brought  him  to  success.  With  a  man  of  Orde's 
temperament,  to  admire  is  to  like;  and  to  like  is  to  invest 
with  all  good  qualities.  He  had  constructed  his  ideal  of  a 
friend,  with  Newmark  as  a  basis ;  and  now  that  this,  which 
had  seemed  to  him  as  solid  a  reality  as  a  brick  block,  had 
dissolved  into  nothing,  he  found  himself  in  the  necessity 
of  refashioning  his  whole  world.  He  was  not  angry  at 
Newmark.  But  he  was  grieved  down  to  the  depths  of  his 
being. 

When  the  full  sun  shone  into  the  library,  he  aroused  him- 
self to  change  his  clothes.  Then,  carrying  those  he  had  just 
discarded,  he  slipped  out  of  the  house  and  down  the  street 

35° 


THE   RIVERMAN  351 

Duke,  the  black  and  white  setter  dog,  begged  to  follow 
him.  Orde  welcomed  the  animal's  company.  He  paused  only 
long  enough  to  telephone  from  the  office  telling  Carroll  he 
would  be  out  of  town  all  day.  Then  he  set  out  at  a  lopg 
swinging  gah  over  the  hills.  By  thi  time  the  sun  grew 
hot,  he  was  some  miles  from  the  village  and  in  the  high 
beech  woods.  There  he  sat  down,  his  back  to  a  monster  tree. 
A  I  day  long  he  gazed  st  >adily  >n  the  shifting  shadows  and 
splotches  of  sunlight;  on  the  patches  of  blue  sky,  the  daz- 
zling white  clouds  that  sailed  across  them ;  on  the  waving, 
whispering  frond  that  over-arched  him,  and  the  deep  cool 
shadows  beneath.  The  wt  ods  creatures  soon  became  accus- 
tomed to  his  presence.  Squirrels  of  the  several  varieties  that 
abounded  in  the  Michigan  forests  scampered  madly  after 
each  other  in  spirals  around  the  tree  frunks,  or  bounded 
across  the  ground  in  long  undulating  leaps.  Birds  flashed 
and  called  and  disappeared  mysteriously.  A  chewink,  brave 
in  his  black  and  white  and  tan  uniform,  scratched  mightily 
with  great  two-footed  swoops  that  threw  the  vegetable 
mould  over  Orde's  very  feet.  Blazoned  butterflies — the  yel- 
low and  black  turnus,  the  dark  troilus,  the  shade-loving 
nymphalis — flickered  in  and  out  of  the  patches  of  sunlight. 
Orde  paid  them  no  attention.  The  noon  heat  poured  down 
through  the  forest  isles  like  an  incense.  Overhead  swung 
the  sun,  and  down  the  slope  until  the  long  shafts  of  its  light 
lifted  wand-like  across  the  tree  trunks. 

At  this  hint  of  evening  Orde  shook  himself  and  arose. 
He  was  little  nearer  the  readjustment  he  sought  than  he 
had  been  the  previous  night. 

He  reached  home  a  little  before  six  o'clock.  To  his  sur- 
prise he  found  Taylor  awaiting  him.  The  lawyer  had  written 
nothing  as  to  his  return. 

"  I  had  things  pretty  well  in  shape,"  he  said,  after  the 
first  greetings  had  been  exchanged,  "and  it  would  do  no 
good  to  stay  away  any  longer." 


THE   RIVERMAN 

"  TKen  tfo  trouble  is  over?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  I  wouldn't  say  that,"  replied  Taylor ;  "  but  you  can  rest 

easy  as  to  the  title  to  your  lands.  The  investigation  had  no 

resl  basis  to  it.  There  may  have  been  some  small  individual 

cases  of  false  entry;  but  nothing  on  which  to  ground  a 

-al  attack." 

"  When  can  I  borrow  on  it?  " 

"  Not  for  a  year  or  two,  I  should  say.  There's  an  awful 
/ot  of  red-tape  to  unwir  d,  as  there  always  is  in  such  cases." 

"  Oh,"  said  Orde  in  some  disappointment. 

Taylor  hesitated,  removed  his  eye-glasses,  wiped  them 
rarefully,  and  replaced  them.  He  glanced  at  Orde  sidelong 
through  his  keen,  shrewd  eyes. 

"  I  have  something  more  to  tell  you ;  something  that  will 
be  painful,"  said  he. 

Orde  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Well ;  what  is  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  general  cussedness  of  all  this  investigation  business 
had  me  puzzled,  until  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  a 
little  investigating  on  my  own  account.  It  all  looked  foolish 
to  me.  Somebody  or  something  must  be  back  of  all  this 
performance.  I  was  at  it  all  the  time  I  was  West,  between 
times  on  regular  business,  of  course.  I  didn't  make  much  out 
of  my  direct  efforts — they  cover  things  up  well  in  those 
matters — but  at  last  I  got  on  a  clue  by  sheer  accident.  There 
was  one  man  behind  all  this.  He  was " 

"  Joe  Newmark,"  said  Orde  quietly. 

"  How  did  you  know  that?"  cried  Taylor  in  astonishment. 

"  I  didn't  know,  Frank ;  I  just  guessed." 

"Well,  you  made  a  good  guess.  It  was  Newmark.  He'd 
ied  up  the  land  in  this  trumped-up  investigation  so  you 
could  not  borrow  on  it." 

"  How  did  he  find  out  I  owned  any  land  ?  "  asked  Orde. 

"  That  I  couldn't  tell  you.  Must  have  been  a  leak  some- 
where." 


THE   RIVERMAN  353 

"  Quite  likely,"  said  Orde  calmly. 

Taylor  looked  at  his  principal  in  some  wonder. 

"Well,  I  must  say  you  take  it  coolly  enough,"  said  he 
at  last. 

Orde  smiled. 

"Do  I?"  said  he. 

"Of  course,"  went  on  Taylor  after  a  moment,  "  we  have 
a  strong  presumption  of  conspiracy  to  get  hold  of  your 
Boom  Company  stock,  which  I  believe  you  put  up  as 
security.  But  I  don't  see  how  we  have  any  incontestable 
proof  of  it." 

"  Proof?  What  more  do  we  want?  " 

"  We'd  have  no  witness  to  any  of  these  transactions ;  nor 
have  we  documentary  proofs.  It's  merely  moral  certainty; 
and  moral  certainty  isn't  much  in  a  court  of  law.  I'll  see 
him,  if  you  say  so,  though,  and  scare  him  into  some  sort  of 
an  arrangement." 

Orde  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  said  he  decidedly.  "  Rather  not.  I'll  run  this.  Please 
lay  nothing." 

"  Of  course  not!  "  interjected  Taylor,  a  trifle  indignantly. 

"  And  I'll  figure  out  what  I  want  to  do." 

Orde  pressed  Taylor  to  stay  to  supper;  but  the  latter 
declined.  After  a  few  moments'  conversation  on  general 
topics  the  lawyer  took  his  departure,  secretly  marvelling 
over  the  phlegmatic  way  in  which  Orde  had  taken  what  had 
been  to  Taylor,  when  he  first  stumbled  against  it,  a  shocking 
piece  of  news. 


XLVII 

ORDE  did  not  wish  to  return  to  the  office  until  he  had 
worked  his  problem  out;  so,  to  lend  his  absence 
the  colour  of  naturalness,  he  drove  back  next 
morning  to  the  booms.  There  he  found  enough  to  keep  him 
occupied  all  that  day  and  the  next.  As  in  those  times  the 
long  distance  telephone  had  not  yet  been  attempted,  he  was 
cut  off  from  casual  communication  with  the  village.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  he  returned  home. 

A  telephone  to  Carroll  apprised  him  that  all  was  well  with 
her.  A  few  moments  later  the  call  sounded,  and  Orde  took 
a  message  that  caused  him  to  look  grave  and  to  whistle 
gently  with  surprise.  He  ate  supper  with  Bobby.  About 
star-time  he  took  his  hat  and  walked  slowly  down  the  street 
beneath  the  velvet  darkness  of  the  maples.  At  Newmark's 
he  turned  in  between  the  oleanders. 

Mallock  answered  his  ring. 

"  No,  sir,  Mr.  Newmark  is  out,  sir,"  said  Mallock.  "  I'll 
tell  him  you  called,  sir,"  and  started  respectfully  but  firmly 
to  close  the  door. 

But  Orde  thrust  his  foot  and  knee  in  the  opening. 

"  I'll  come  in  and  wait,"  said  he  quietly. 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  way,  sir,"  said  Mallock,  trying  to  indicate 
the  dining-room,  where  he  wished  Orde  to  sit  until  he  could 
come  at  his  master's  wishes  in  the  matter. 

Orde  caught  the  aroma  of  tobacco  and  the  glimmer  of 
light  to  the  left.  Without  reply  he  turned  the  knob  of  the 
door  and  entered  the  library. 

There  he  found  Newmark  in  evening  dress,  seated  in  a 

as* 


THE    RIVERMAN  355 

low  easy  chair  beneath  a  lamp,  smoking,  and  reading  a 
magazine.  At  Orde's  appearance  in  the  doorway,  he  looked 
up  calmly,  his  paper  knife  poised,  keeping  the  place. 
"  Oh,  it's  you,  Orde,"  said  he. 
"  Your  man  told  me  you  were  not  in,"  said  Orde. 
"  He  was  mistaken.  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 
Orde  entered  the  room  and  mechanically  obeyed  New- 
mark's  suggestion,  his  manner  preoccupied.  For  some  time 
he  stared  with  wrinkled  brow  at  a  point  above  the  illumina- 
tion of  the  lamp.   Newmark,  over  the  end  of  his  cigar, 
poised  a  foot  from  his  lips,  watched  the  riverman  with  a 
cool  calculation. 

"  Newmark,"  Orde  began  abruptly  at  last,  "  I  know  all 
about  this  deal." 

"  What  deal  ?  "  asked  Newmark,  after  a  barely  percep- 
tible pause. 

"  This  arrangement  you  made  with  Heinzman." 
"  I  borrowed  some  money  from  Heinzman  for  the  firm/' 
"  Yes ;  and  you  supplied  that  money  yourself." 
Newmark's  eyes  narrowed,  but  he  said  nothing.  Orde 
glanced  toward  him,  then  away  again,  as  though  ashamed. 
"  Well,"  said  Newmark  at  last,  "  what  of  it?  " 
"  If  you  had  the  money  to  lend  why  didn't  you  lend  it 
direct?" 

"  Because  it  looks  better  to  mortgage  to  an  outside 
bolder." 

An  expression  of  profound  disgust  flitted  across  Orde's 
countenance.  Newmark  smiled  covertly,  and  puffed  once  or 
twice  strongly  on  his  nearly  extinct  cigar. 

"  That  was  not  the  reason,"  went  on  Orde.  "  You  agreed 
with  Heinzman  to  divide  when  you  succeeded  in  foreclosing 
me  out  of  the  timber  lands  given  as  security.  Furthermore 
you  instructed  Floyd  to  go  out  on  the  eve  of  that  blow  in 
spite  of  his  warnings ;  and  you  contracted  with  McLeod  for 
the  new  vessels ;  and  you've  tied  us  up  right  and  left  for  the 


356  THE   RIVERMAN 

sole  purpose  of  pinching  us  down  where  we  couldn't  meet 
those  notes.  That's  the  only  reason  you  borrowed  the 
seventy-five  thousand  on  your  own  account ;  so  we  couldn't 
borrow  it  to  save  ourselves." 

"  It  strikes  me  you  are  interesting  but  inconclusive,"  5aid 
Newmark,  as  Orde  paused  again. 

"  That  sort  of  thing  is  somewhat  of  a  facer,"  went  on 
Orde  without  the  slightest  attention  to  the  interjection.  "  It 
took  me  some  days  to  work  it  out  in  all  its  details;  but  I 
believe  I  understand  it  ;ill  now.  I  don't  quite  understand 
how  you  discovered  about  my  California  timber.  That  '  in- 
vestigation '  was  a  very  pretty  move." 

"  How  the  devil  did  you  get  onto  that  ?  "  cried  Newmark, 
startled  for  a  moment  out  of  his  cool  attitude  of  cynical 
aloofness. 

"  Then  you  acknowledge  it  ?  "  shot  in  Orde  quick  as  a 
flash. 

Newmark  laughed  in  amusement. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  Of  course  Heinzman  blabbed.  You 
couldn't  have  got  it  all  anywhere  else." 

Orde  arose  to  his  feet,  and  half  sat  again  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair. 

"  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  we  will  do  in  this  matter,"  said 
he  crisply. 

But  Newmark  unexpectedly  took  the  aggressive. 

"  We'll  follow,"  said  he,  "the  original  programme,  as  laid 
down  by  myself.  I'm  tired  of  dealing  with  blundering  fools. 
Heinzman's  mortgage  will  be  foreclosed ;  and  you  will  hand 
over  as  per  the  agreement  your  Boom  Company  stock." 

Orde  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  I  must  say  you  have  good  nerve,"  he  said ;  "  you  don't 
seem  to  realise  that  you  are  pretty  well  tangled  up.  I  don't 
know  what  they  call  it:  criminal  conspiracy,  or  something 
of  that  sort,  I  suppose.  So  far  from  handing  over  to  you 
the  bulk  of  my  property,  I  can  send  you  to  the  penitentiary." 


THE   RIVERMAN  357 

"  Nonsense/'  rejoined  Newmark,  leaning  forward  in  his 
turn.  "  I  know  you  too  well,  Jack  Orde.  You're  a  fool  of 
more  kinds  than  I  care  to  count,  and  this  is  one  of  the  kinds. 
Do  you  seriously  mean  to  say  that  you  dare  try  to  prosecute 
me?  Just  as  sure  as  you  do,  I'll  put  Heinzman  in  the  pen 
too.  I've  got  it  on  him,  cold.  He's  a  bribe  giver — and  some- 
what of  a  criminal  conspirator  himself." 

"  Well,"  said  Orde. 

Newmark  leaned  back  with  an  amused  little  chuckle.  "If 
the  man  hadn't  come  to  you  and  given  the  whole  show 
away,  you'd  have  lost  every  cent  you  owned.  He  did  you 
the  biggest  favour  in  his  power.  And  for  your  benefit  I'll 
tell  you  what  you  can  easily  substantiate ;  I  forced  him  into 
this  deal  with  me.  I  had  this  bribery  case  on  him;  and  in 
addition  his  own  affairs  were  all  tied  up." 

"  I  knew  that,"  replied  Orde. 

"  What  had  the  man  to  gain  by  telling  you  ?  "  pursued 
Newmark.  "Nothing  at  all.  What  had  he  to  lose?  Every- 
thing :  his  property,  his  social  position,  his  daughter's  esteem, 
which  the  old  fool  holds  higher  than  any  of  them.  You  could 
put  me  in  the  pen,  perhaps — with  Heinzman's  testimony. 
But  the  minute  Heinzman  appears  on  the  stand,  I'll  land 
him  high  and  dry  and  gasping,  without  a  chance  to  flop." 

He  paused  a  moment  to  puff  at  his  cigar.  Finding  it  had 
gone  out,  b»  laid  the  butt  carefully  on  the  ash  tray  at  his 
elbow. 

"  I'm  nofmuch  used  to  giving  advice,"  he  went  on,  "  least 
of  all  when  it  is  at  all  likely  to  be  taken.  But  I'll  offer 
you  some.  Throw  Heinzman  over.  Let  him  go  to  the  pen. 
He's  been  crooked,  and  a  fool." 

"  That's  what  you'd  do,  I  suppose,"  said  Orde. 

"  Exactly  that.  You  owe  nothing  to  Heinzman ;  but  some- 
thing to  what  you  would  probably  call  repentance,  but  which 
is  in  reality  a  mawkish  sentimentality  of  weakness.  How- 
ever, I  know  you,  Jack  Orde,  from  top  to  bottom;  and  I 


358  THE   RIVERMAN 

know  you're  fool  enough  not  to  do  it.  I'm  so  sure  of  it  that 
I  dare  put  it  to  you  straight ;  you  could  never  bring  your- 
self to  the  point  of  destroying  a  man  who  had  sacrificed 
himself  for  you." 

"  You  seem  to  have  this  game  all  figured  out,"  said  Orde 
with  contempt. 

Newmark  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  Two  bright  red  spots 
burned  in  his  ordinarily  sallow  cheeks.  He  half  closed  his 
eyes. 

"  You're  right,"  said  he  with  an  ill-concealed  satisfaction. 
"If  you  play  a  game,  play  it  through.  Each  man  is  different ; 
for  each  a  different  treatment  is  required.  The  game  is  in- 
finite, wonderful,  fascinating  to  the  skilful."  He  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  over  at  Orde  with  a  mild  curiosity.  "  I  sup- 
pose men  are  about  all  of  one  kind  to  you." 

"  Two,"  said  Orde  grimly ;  "  the  honest  men  and  the 
scoundrels." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  let's  settle  this  thing.  The  fact 
remains  that  the  firm  owes  a  note  to  Heinzman,  which  it 
cannot  pay.  You  owe  a  note  to  the  firm  which  you  cannot 
pay.  All  this  may  be  slightly  irregular;  but  for  private 
reasons  you  do  not  care  to  make  public  the  irregularity. 
Am  I  right  so  far  ?  " 

Orde,  who  had  been  watching  him  with  a  slightly  sar- 
donic smile,  nodded. 

"  Well,  what  I  want  out  of  this " 

"  You  might  hear  the  other  side,"  interrupted  Orde.  "  In 
the  first  place,"  said  he,  producing  a  bundle  of  papers,  "  I 
have  the  note  and  the  mortgage  in  my  possession." 

"  Whence  Heinzman  will  shortly  rescue  them,  as  soon 
as  I  get  to  see  him,"  countered  Newmark.  "  You  acknowl- 
edge that  I  can  force  Heinzman ;  and  you  can  hardly  refuse 
him." 

"  If  you  force  Heinzman,  he'll  land  you,"  Orde  pointed 
out. 


THE   RIVERMAN  359 

"  There  is  Canada  for  me,  with  no  extradition.  He  traveU 
With  heavier  baggage.  I  have  the  better  trumps." 

"  You'd  lose  everything." 

"  Not  quite,"  smiled  Newmark.  "  And,  as  usual,  you  are 
forgetting  the  personal  equation.  Heinzman  is — Heinzman. 
And  I  am  I." 

"  Then  I  suppose  this  affidavit  from  Heinzman  as  to  the 
details  of  all  this  is  useless  for  the  same  reason  ?  " 

Newmark's  thin  lips  parted  in  another  smile. 

"  Correct,"  said  he. 

"  But  you're  ready  to  compromise  below  the  face  of  the 
note?" 

"  I  am." 

"Why?" 

Newmark  hesitated. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he ;  "  because  I  know  you  well  enough 
to  realise  that  there  is  a  point  where  your  loyalty  to  Heinz- 
man would  step  aside  in  favour  of  your  loyalty  to  your 
family." 

"  And  you  think  you  know  where  that  point  is  ?  " 

"  It's  the  basis  of  my  compromise." 

Orde  began  softly  to  laugh.  "  Newmark,  you're  as  clever 
as  the  devil,"  said  he.  "  But  aren't  you  afraid  to  lay  out 
your  cards  this  way  ?  " 

"  Not  with  you,"  replied  Newmark,  boldly ;  "  with  any- 
body else  on  earth,  yes.  With  you,  no." 

Orde  continued  to  laugh,  still  in  the  low  undertone. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is,  I  believe  you're  right,"  said  he  at 
last.  "  You  have  the  thing  sized  up ;  and  there  isn't  a  flaw 
in  your  reasoning.  I  always  said  that  you  were  the  brains 
6f  this  concern.  If  it  were  not  for  one  thing,  I'd  compromise 
sure;  and  that  one  thing  was  beyond  your  power  to  fore- 
see." 

He  paused.  Newmark's  eyes  half-closed  again,  in  a  quick 
darting  effort  of  his  brain  to  run  back  over  all  the  elements 


30o  THE   RIVERMAN 

of  the  game  he  was  playing.  Orde  waited  in  patience  for 
him  to  speak. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Newmark  at  last. 

"Heinzman  died  of  smallpox  at  four  o'clock  this  after- 
noon," said  Orde. 


XLVIII 

NEWMARK  did  not  alter  his  attitude  nor  his  ex- 
pression, but  his  face  slowly  went  gray.  For  a  full 
minute  he  sat  absolutely  motionless,  his  breath 
coming  and  going  noisily  through  his  contracted  nostrils. 
Then  he  arose  gropingly  to  his  feet,  and  started  toward  one 
of  the  two  doors  leading  from  the  room. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  Orde  quietly. 

Newmark  steadied  himself  with  an  effort. 

"  I'm  going  to  get  myself  a  drink  in  my  bedroom,"  he 
snapped.  "Any  objections?" 

"  No,"  replied  Orde.  "  None.  After  you  get  your  drink, 
come  back.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Newmark  snarled  at  him:  "You  needn't  be  afraid  I'll 
run  away.  How'd  I  get  out  of  town  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  wouldn't  pay  you  to  run  away,"  said  Orde. 

Newmark  passed  out  through  the  door.  Orde  looked 
thoughtfully  at  Heinzman's  affidavit,  which,  duly  disin- 
fected, had  been  handed  him  by  Dr.  McMullen  as  im- 
portant; and  thrust  it  and  the  other  papers  into  his  inside 
pocket.  Then  he  arose  to  his  feet  and  glided  softly  across 
the  room  to  take  a  position  close  to  the  door  through  which 
Newmark  had  departed  in  quest  of  his  drink.  For  a  half 
minute  he  waited.  Finally  the  door  swung  briskly  inward. 
Like  a  panther,  as  quickly  and  as  noiselessly,  Orde  sprang 
forward.  A  short  but  decisive  struggle  ensued.  In  less  than 
ten  seconds  Orde  had  pinioned  Newmark's  arms  to  his  side 
where  he  held  them  immovable  with  one  of  his  own.  The 
other  hand  he  ran  down  Newmark's  right  arm  to  the  pocket. 


362  THE   RIVERMAN 

There  followed  an  instant  of  silent  resistance.  Then  with  a 
sharp  cry  of  mingled  anger  and  pain  Newmark  snatched  his 
hand  out  and  gazed  a  trifle  amazedly  at  the  half  crushed 
fingers.  Orde  drew  forth  the  revolver  Newmark  had 
grasped  concealed  in  the  coat  pocket. 

Without  hesitation  he  closed  and  locked  the  bedroom 
door;  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  of  the  other;  tried  and 
fastened  the  window.  The  revolver  he  opened ;  spilled  out 
the  cartridges  into  his  hand;  and  then  tossed  the  empty 
weapon  to  Newmark,  who  had  sunk  into  the  chair  by  the 
lamp. 

"  There's  your  plaything,"  said  he.  "  So  you  wanted  that 
affidavit,  did  you?  Now  we  have  the  place  to  ourselves; 
and  we'll  thresh  this  matter  out." 

He  paused,  collecting  his  thoughts. 

"  I  don't  need  to  tell  you  that  I've  got  you  about  where 
you  live,"  said  he  finally.  "  Nor  what  I  think  of  you.  The 
case  is  open  and  shut;  and  I  can  send  you  over  the  road 
for  the  best  part  of  your  natural  days.  Also  I've  got  these 
notes  and  the  mortgage." 

"  Quit  it,"  growled  Newmark,  "  you've  got  me.  Send  me 
up ;  and  be  damned." 

"  That's  the  question,"  went  on  Orde  slowly.  "  I've  been 
at  it  three  days,  without  much  time  off  for  sleep.  You  hurt 
me  pretty  bad,  Joe.  I  trusted  you;  and  I  thought  of  you 
as  a  friend." 

Newmark  stirred  slightly  with  impatience. 

"  I  had  a  hard  time  getting  over  that  part  of  it ;  and 
about  three-quarters  of  what  was  left  in  the  world  looked 
mighty  like  ashes  for  awhile.  Then  I  began  to  see  this  thing 
a  little  clearer.  We've  been  together  a  good  many  years 
now;  and  as  near  as  I  can  make  out  you've  been  straight 
as  a  string  with  me  for  eight  of  them.  Then  I  suppose  the 
chance  came  and  before  you  knew  it  you  were  in  over 
your  neck." 


THE   RIVERMAN  363 

He  looked,  half-pleading  toward  Newmark.  Newmark 
made  no  sign. 

"  I  know  that's  the  way  it  might  be.  A  man  thinks  he's 
mighty  brave;  and  so  he  is,  as  long  as  he  can  see  what's 
coming,  and  get  ready  for  it.  But  some  day  an  emergency 
just  comes  up  and  touches  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  he 
turns  around  and  sees  it  all  of  a  sudden.  Then  he  finds  he's 
a  coward.  It's  pretty  hard  for  me  to  understand  dishonesty, 
or  how  a  man  can  be  dishonest.  I've  tried,  but  I  can't  do  it. 
Crookedness  isn't  my  particular  kind  of  fault.  But  I  do 
know  this:  that  we  every  one  of  us  have  something  to  be 
forgiven  for  by  some  one.  I  guess  I've  got  a  temper  that 
makes  me  pretty  sorry  sometimes.  Probably  you  don't  see 
how  it's  possible  for  a  man  to  get  crazy  mad  about  little 
things.  That  isn't  your  particular  kind  of  fault." 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  drop  that  preaching.  It  makes  me 
sick !  "  broke  out  Newmark. 

Orde  smiled  whimsically. 

"  I'm  not  preaching,"  he  said ;  "  and  even  if  I  were,  I've 
paid  a  good  many  thousands  of  dollars,  it  seems,  to  buy  the 
right  to  say  what  I  damn  please.  And  if  you  think  I'm  work- 
ing up  to  a  Christian  forgiveness  racket,  you're  very  much 
mistaken.  I'm  not.  I  don't  forgive  you ;  and  I  surely  despise 
your  sort.  But  I'm  explaining  to  you — no,  to  myself — just 
what  I've  been  at  for  three  days." 

"  Well,  turn  me  over  to  your  sheriff,  and  let's  get 
through  with  this,"  said  Newmark  sullenly.  "  I  suppose 
you've  got  that  part  of  it  all  fixed." 

Orde  rose. 

"  Look  here,  Newmark,  that's  just  what  I've  been  coming 
to,  just  what  I've  had  such  a  hard  time  to  get  hold  of.  I  felt 
it,  but  I  couldn't  put  my  finger  on  it.  Now  I  know.  I'm  not 
going  to  hand  you  over  to  any  sheriff;  I'm  going  to  let 
you  off.  No,"  he  continued,  in  response  to  Newmark's  look 
of  incredulous  amazement,  "  it  isn't  from  any  fool  notion  of 


364  THE   RIVERMAN 

forgiveness.  I  told  you  I  didn't  forgive  you.  But  I'm  not 
going  to  burden  my  future  life  with  you.  That's  just  plain, 
ordinary  selfishness.  I  suppose  I  really  ought  to  jug  you; 
but  if  I  do,  I'll  always  carry  with  me  the  thought  that  I've 
taken  it  on  myself  to  judge  a  man.  And  I  don't  believe  any 
man  is  competent  to  judge  another.  I  told  you  why — or  tried 
to — a  minute  or  so  ago.  I've  lived  clean,  and  I've  enjoyed 
the  world  as  a  clean  open-air  sort  of  proposition — like  a 
windy  day — and  I  always  hope  to.  I'd  rather  drop  this 
whole  matter.  In  a  short  time  I'd  forget  you;  you'd  pass 
out  of  my  life  entirely.  But  if  we  carry  this  thing  through 
to  a  finish,  I'd  always  have  the  thought  with  me  that  I'd 
put  you  in  the  pen;  that  you  are  there  now.  I  don't  like 
the  notion.  I'd  rather  finish  this  up  right  here  and  now  and 
get  it  over  and  done  with  and  take  a  fresh  start."  He  paused 
and  wiped  his  brow,  wet  with  the  unusual  exertion  of  this 
self-analysis.  "  I  think  a  fellow  ought  to  act  always  as  if 
he  was  making  the  world.  He  ought  to  try  not  to  put  things 
in  it  that  are  going  to  make  it  an  unpleasant  or  an  evil 
world.  We  don't  always  do  it ;  but  we  ought  to  try.  Now  if 
I  were  making  a  world,  I  wouldn't  put  a  man  in  a  peni- 
tentiary in  it.  Of  course  there's  dangerous  criminals."  He 
glanced  at  Newmark  a  little  anxiously.  "  I  don't  believe 
you're  that.  Yo'i're  sharp  and  dishonest,  and  need  punish- 
ment; but  you  don't  need  extinction.  Anyway,  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  bother  my  future  with  you." 

Newmark,  who  had  listened  to  this  long  and  rambling 
exposition  wkh  increasing  curiosity  and  interest,  broke  into 
a  short  laugh. 

"  You've  convicted  me,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  most  awful  fail- 
ure. I  thought  I  knew  you ;  but  this  passes  all  belief." 

Orde  brushed  this  speech  aside  as  irrelevant. 

"  Our  association,  of  course,  comes  to  an  end.  There  re- 
main the  terms  of  settlement.  I  could  fire  you  out  of  this 
without  a  cent,  and  you'd  have  to  git.  But  that  wouldn't 


THE   RIVERMAN  305 

be  fair.  I  don't  give  a  damn  for  you;  but  it  wouldn't  be 
fair  to  me.  Now  as  for  the  Northern  Peninsula  timber,  you 
have  had  seventy-five  thousand  out  of  that  and  have  lent 
me  the  same  amount.  Call  that  quits.  I  will  take  up  your 
note  when  it  comes  due;  and  destroy  the  one  given  to 
Heinzman.  For  all  your  holdings  in  our  common  business  I 
will  give  you  my  note  without  interest  and  without  time  for 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  That  is  not  its  face  value, 
nor  anything  like  it,  but  you  have  caused  me  directly  and 
indirectly  considerable  loss.  I  don't  know  how  soon  I  can 
pay  this  note ;  but  it  will  be  paid." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Newmark. 

"  Does  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it's  got  to." 

"  Very  well.  I  have  the  papers  here  all  made  out.  They 
need  simply  to  be  signed  and  witnessed.  Timbull  is  the 
nearest  notary." 

He  unlocked  the  outside  door. 

"  Come,"  said  he. 

In  silence  the  two  walked  the  block  and  a  half  to  the  no- 
tary's house.  Here  they  were  forced  to  wait  some  time  while 
Timbull  dressed  himself  and  called  the  necessary  witnesses. 
Finally  the  papers  were  executed.  In  the  street  Newmark 
paused  significantly.  But  Orde  did  not  take  the  hint. 

"  Are  you  coming  with  me  ?  "  asked  Newmark. 

"  I  am,"  replied  Orde.  "  There  is  one  thing  more." 

In  silence  once  more  they  returned  to  the  shadowy  low 
library  filled  with  its  evidences  of  good  taste.  Newmark 
threw  himself  into  the  armchair.  He  was  quite  recovered* 
once  again  the  imperturbable,  coldly  calculating,  cynical  ob~ 
server.  Orde  relocked  the  door,  and  turned  to  face  him. 

"You  have  five  days  to  leave  town,"  he  said  crisply. 
"  Don't  ever  show  up  here  again.  Let  me  have  your  address 
for  the  payment  of  this  note." 

He  took  two  steps  forward. 


Q66  THE   RIVERMAN 

"  I've  let  you  off  from  the  pen  because  I  didn't  want,  my 
life  bothered  with  the  thought  of  you.  But  you've  treated 
me  like  a  hound.  I've  been  loyal  to  the  firm's  interests  from 
the  start;  and  I've  done  my  best  by  it.  You  knifed  me  in 
the  back.  You're  a  dirty,  low-lived  skunk.  If  you  think 
you're  going  to  get  off  scot-free,  you're  mightily  mistaken." 

He  advanced  two  steps  more.  Newmark  half  arose. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  in  some  alarm. 

"  I  mean  that  I'm  going  to  give  you  about  the  worst  lick- 
ing you  ever  heard  tell  of,"  replied  Orde,  buttoning  his 
coat 


XLIX 

FVE  minutes  later  Orde  emerged  from  Newmark's 
house,   softly  rubbing  the  palm  of  one  hand  over 
the   knuckles   of  the  other.   At  the   front   gate   he 
paused  to  look  up  at  the  stars.  Then  he  shut  it  decisively 
behind  him. 

Up  through  the  maple  shaded  streets  he  walked  at  a  brisk 
pace,  breathing  deep,  unconsciously  squaring  back  his  shoul- 
ders. The  incident  was  behind  him.  In  his  characteristic 
decisive  manner  he  had  wiped  the  whole  disagreeable  af- 
fair off  the  slate.  The  copartnership  with  its  gains  and 
losses,  its  struggles  and  easy  sailing  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Only  there  remained,  as  after  a  flood  the  sediment,  a  final 
result  of  it  all,  the  balance  between  successes  and  failures, 
a  ground  beneath  the  feet  of  new  aspirations.  Orde  had  the 
Northern  Peninsula  timber;  the  Boom  Company;  and  the 
carrying  trade.  They  were  all  burdened  with  debt,  it  is 
true,  but  the  riverman  felt  surging  within  him  the  reawak- 
ened and  powerful  energy  for  which  optimism  is  another 
name.  He  saw  stretching  before  him  a  long  life  of  endeav- 
our, the  sort  of  endeavour  he  enjoyed,  exulted  in;  and  in 
it  he  would  be  untrammelled  and  alone.  The  idea  appealed 
to  him.  Suddenly  he  was  impatient  for  the  morrow  that  he 
might  begin. 

He  turned  out  of  the  side  street.  His  own  house  lay  be- 
fore him,  dark  save  for  the  gas  jet  in  the  hallway  and  the 
single  lamp  in  the  library.  A  harmony  of  softly  touched 
chords  breathed  out  through  the  open  window.  He  stopped ; 
tlen  stole  forward  softly  until  he  stood  looking  in  through 
Uv.  doorvay. 

367 


368  THE   RIVERMAN 

Carroll  sat  leaning  against  the  golden  harp,  her  shining 
head  with  the  soft  shadows  bent  until  it  almost  touched 
the  strings.  Her  hands  were  straying  idly  over  accustomed 
chords  and  rich  modulations,  the  plaintive  half-music  of 
reverie.  A  soft  light  fell  on  her  slender  figure;  half  re- 
vealed the  oval  of  her  cheek  and  the  sweep  of  her  lashes. 

Orde  crept  to  her  unheard.  Gently  he  clasped  her  from 
behind.  Unsurprised  she  relinquished  the  harp  strings  and 
sank  back  against  his  breast  with  a  happy  little  sigh. 

"  Kind  of  fun  being  married,  isn't  it,  sweetheart  ?  "  he 
repeated  their  quaint  formula. 

u  Kind  of,"  she  replied ;  and  raised  her  face  to  his. 


THE  END 


THE  COUNTRY   LIFE   PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,   N.  Y. 


DATE  DUE 


GAYLORD 


PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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